


The Bodyguard

by SonicoSenpai



Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-, Togainu no Chi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempted Sexual Assault, Biting, Boundaries, Careers Have Issues, Cat Behaviors, Catboys, Dancing, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Depressed Konoe, Desperate Konoe, Forced Submission, Hurt/Comfort, Infatuation, Intimidation, Jealousy, Konoe is fast and loose, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Multiple Partners, Nightclub, POV First Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, RIP Rai's Career, Rai is a tease, Rai tries to be a professional, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Slutty Konoe, Stalking, crazy fans, mixing business and pleasure, much to Konoe’s dismay, obsessive fans, ridiculous fun fluffiness, scruffing, yep you read that right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-01-05 06:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: In this modern AU, we meet Rai, a professional security expert who is good at his job at protecting even the most difficult clients. We meet him as he is introduced to his most difficult client so far: a rising hot star, drama queen, slightly obsessive and completely self-absorbed singer for a band about to promote their latest album. Konoe is barely of age and isn't handling the rise to fame well. His record label is concerned about threats he has been getting online and hires a security company (who recruits Rai) to beef up his security.Little does he know how much his life is about to change...If you're reading for the smut, they finally do it in chapter 11. I mean--Rai x Konoe, anyway. Konoe gets quite a bit more action in this fic than others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should make a note here that the Konoe I am portraying here is based on Razel's game-ending, in case he seems slightly out of character and different from the Konoe I usually write.
> 
> Also, if Rai seems slightly cold (at first), that is deliberate. However, as much as he tries, he can't resist teasing an extremely self-absorbed client.

“Just be professional.”

Without saying a word, I narrow my eye at Charlie, the agent referring me for this new job, making him flinch. Who the _fuck_ does he think he’s talking to?

“I know, I know. You’re the best we’ve got, and the first person I thought of for this particular client. But this client—he’s, um, a little different.” 

I still don’t say anything, crossing my arms in front of my chest and leaning against the window. I glance outside for a moment—this asshole must make a fuck-ton of money from clients just like this “different” one he is referring me to right now. The rent in offices around this area borders on extreme, and my office sure as hell isn’t in this building or anywhere around here. When Charlie doesn’t speak, I finally look at him to make him clarify the word, “different.”

“I mean, he’s the lead singer for this hot new band, Rage Against the Kuim, that just took off. Their first album has really made it big. He writes all their songs and he’s the real deal. He’s got real stage presence—the look, the act, everything—but he’s a handful, according to their manager, and a bit of a drama queen. He attracts the crazies by the dozen. Obviously, the label is nervous about sending them on tour.”

I’ve dealt with plenty of drama queens. I’ve dealt with legitimate royalty, too. Security is my job.

“Will he follow my instructions?” I ask.

“I told him it was a requirement of your hire,” Charlie says, but I see he’s fairly non-committal, meaning he hasn't gotten any guarantee that the client will follow any instructions whatsoever. What a pain in my ass! Rolling my eyes and clicking my tongue, I feel slight irritation.

“Is he concerned about his own safety?”

“I don’t think he’s aware any issues as yet, but the label is sure it’s bound to happen soon. He's been kept well isolated to prevent anxiety.”

Anxiety? Well, if they want his cooperation, he should be at least a little bit anxious.

“He should be made aware of them or he won’t cooperate,” I suggest. “I will meet with him, but there’s no point if he isn’t on board.”

“Thanks. I told them to contact you.”

Picking up my motorcycle helmet, I nod and make my way out the door. 

Charlie’s secretary is a hot blonde with short spikey hair, and she smiles at me when I leave. She’s dressed in a black skin-tight pencil skirt that goes slightly past her knees, hugging her shape in all the right places, a conservative white silk blouse, and gold jewelry. Her spiked pumps probably cost more than my bike is worth.

“I always enjoy admiring your—er, um, it's always nice to see you when you stop by, Rai,” she purrs suggestively and gives me a wink, staring at my ass.

I _always_ appreciate her sexual harassment.

“Whatever,” I growl without looking her way as I make my way to the elevator. I flick my fluffy white tail as though annoyed, but I also flick it in such a way to accent my ass, which is covered in tight motorcycle leathers, giving her the perfect view. 

Sure enough, as Charlie predicted, I have a message on my business cell by the time I get home. I return it like a responsible working adult—honestly, I need the work, as much as I really would rather not go on tour again (travel can be such a nightmare), and set up a meeting for that evening.

The arrangements are at a fancy restaurant, which will be paid for Charlie, thankfully, since it's out of my budget. The meeting includes the group’s manager, a representative of the label, the music prodigy, and myself. If he’s like all the other stars I’ve ever babysat, he will be late. Before the meeting, I do a little research, and I’m shocked by his age. He’s barely old enough to live on his own—I mean, _barely_ legal as of this past month—and he has a serious reputation in the gossip rags as a player. 

I spend the afternoon on my research, putting together a file on him and his potential risks, seeing two major groups to be concerned right off the top: first, obsessive fans—and there are a _lot_ of them for such a new group. Their first album dropped just last month and already the obsession over the group—and him personally—is insane. I can understand why. He’s a cute little fellow—young, attractive, and fresh—and his music is powerful. I haven't listened to it yet, but from what I can tell, young people are _crazy_ about it. I queue up the album's songs to listen to while I’m getting ready for the meeting.

The second group he has to worry about is disgruntled exes—of both sexes, I’d gather. Not just his own exes, but the former lovers of those he has slept with as well. If what the paparazzi and gossip rags are gathering is true, at least, he is insatiable. This is a common theme that often gets worse as a star becomes more popular. And this isn’t going to work for me.

I have no problem with my charges having sex or relationships, but he’s going to have to allow me to vet his lovers if I’m in charge of security. I've had this conversation with plenty of clients, but never with one quite so young. It should be interesting.

Damn. I look up the restaurant and it’s a lot more swanky than my usual meeting places. Am I going to have to take über instead of my bike? Fuck that. I’m security and the client is just going to have to deal. I hop in the shower to scrub the skank off and wash my hair—and I don’t leave myself quite enough time so I end up actually having to blow it partly dry. I’ve let it grow too long, I guess. I pull it back in a ponytail when I ride my bike. It keeps me slightly more presentable. 

I’m listening to his music while I’m getting ready—you know, for research. And something feels strange about it. I’m honestly not a musical guy. I mean, in my younger years I partied and would go dancing now and then. But these days, I just don’t do that much. I keep to myself and prefer quiet. But there’s something about this kid’s music that pulls at my emotions, and that says a hell of a lot.

Charlie wasn’t kidding when he says he’s the real deal. It’s like—I can feel his emotions—his pain and loneliness, his heartbreak, his grief—in the music itself, and it affects me. It’s unusual. I remember as a kid, the old man told me stories—well, now I think of them as fairy tales—of this type of cat who was gifted in the art of music. He was called a Sanga. His music had real magical power. If I were crazy, I’d think this kid was one of those magical creatures in our contemporary society. But that’s a crazy thought. 

Then I pull on my only clean button down shirt and my best pair of leathers and boots, grab my wallet and phone. And yeah, I don’t leave the house without my Taser. At least. I also have other weapons on me that no one needs to know about. Part of the job, I can't help it.

I show up right on time, and the label rep is already there. As I suspected, our little superstar is late, but that’s just fine. It will give me time to discuss a few concerns outside of his presence.

“Thank you so much for coming,” the rep says, looking at me nervously. I pick him out of the crowd immediately by his expensive suit. He’s an attractive cat—medium build, chestnut hair in an expensive cut with short fur, pricey shoes, clothes still neat and pressed even after a full day at work. And when he meets my gaze, he cowers slightly, which is not an unusual reaction. I have the effect of making others around me nervous. The old man has told me to smile more, but why? What would be the point? It’s their problem if they are nervous, isn’t it?

“I’m Rai. Charlie referred me.” I hold out my hand and give it a firm shake. “You must be Steve.”

He nods, nervous as hell—his hands are sweaty. How the fuck can he do business with sweaty palms like that, I wonder?

“Let me check my jacket and helmet. Do we want to wait for the client?”

“Oh, Konoe may be a while,” Steve says—checking out my height again. He’s not short, but I’m still about two heads taller than him. An intimidating presence makes for good security. “Sorry. Do you mind?”

“It’s happened before,” I say casually. “It isn’t bad. It may give us a moment to discuss a few concerns.”

The hostess shows us to a table—checking out my height, my ass (yeah, the leather is tight), and my hair, which is down to my waist as soon as I’ve taken off my helmet—and the rep suggests we do the chef’s prix fix tasting menu. He orders a gin martini and I order whiskey on the rocks. 

The first thing I address is _threats_. I need to know if there has been anything specific. If so, has the client been informed? I know his name is Konoe, but I refer to him as “the client” until I am asked to call him something else. And only he can ask me to do this.

“There have been a handful—phone calls, some letters, quite a bit of email—and I think he is aware of the ones that have shown up on social media before we get a chance to lock them down. We have a guy who looks at his social media before he does. He’s a bit, um, unpredictable, so we try to keep him under control.”

“All right. Would you mind updating him about the threats—all of them?”

“Why would we do that? I think it would make him worry needlessly.”

“It probably will,” I agree. “But it’s essential for him to be willing to cooperate. The fact that he isn’t here now makes me think he isn’t exactly excited about having a security detail to begin with.” 

“Ah. I see. Let me send a quick text, but I think I can get that information.” Steve looks down at his phone and bangs out a text.

“How much control do you have over his schedule?”

“Of course, we set his tour schedule, but what he does in his own time is up to him.”

“He’s pretty young, and if the gossip rags are anything close to accurate, I’ll be narrowing access to the general public by vetting those who come in contact with him.”

“Vetting…?”

“Yes. I’ll start with that topic tonight.” 

“I don’t think that will go well, but you’re welcome to try,” Steve says.

“Why not?” I ask bluntly. “I mean, he’s just a kid. You don’t think he will comply?”

“I think he’s a kid desperate for attention and all the love he can get, to be honest. But we are hiring you to do a job, and he has a brain. Konoe will listen to you if he understands your intent.” 

Our drinks are good—the whiskey is better than expected, although, for as much as it costs, it should be. Steve orders appetizers and they are excellent as well, though I wait for him to take the first bite. About a half an hour after our arrival, I notice a bit of a commotion at the front of the restaurant, and I assume this is the client, making his entrance.

There’s nothing subtle about it. He must have been driven by his manager, who, Steve has informed me is _his_ manager, not the band’s manager. Tokino, the cat’s name is, and he is a young male, probably a friend from his past, from the look of him. Despite being decked out in designer clothing, he looks absolutely exhausted.He’s got a medium build but looks much smaller due to his slouching posture. He’s an orange tabby with a mop of short auburn hair. His blue eyes are glued on his charge, who he is trying to herd toward the table. 

His charge—the client—my first impression of him is that those photos I saw of him haven’t done him justice. He’s _enchanting_. He’s a waif of a thing—much smaller and more petite in person, delicate looking but well toned and fit. Looking at his outfit, I can’t tell if he’s been styled or not. He’s wearing dark distressed denim—very distressed, enough so ivory-colored skin peeks through some of the worn places, including the thighs, giving him a surprisingly risqué appearance. He’s wearing a tight tee-shirt with a printed logo that is in a soft shade of gold, which accents his eyes—which sparkle in the low light of the restaurant. He has blonde hair, a little past his shoulders, shiny and fluffy but casually styled, and equally soft white fur with gold tips—short but plush and full. He’s meticulously groomed, and he flashes his white fangs at me in a flirty way the moment he approaches. 

This is going to be fun. 

I tilt my head to the side just a bit, letting my hair spill over the front of my shoulder. He examines as much of me as he can see. To make things easier, I stand up, pulling myself to my full height and stretch out my hand to take his, which is soft and supple.

“I’m Rai. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m Konoe,” his soft voice purrs—and I knew it. I hear that enchanting little whisper in my heart when he first speaks. “It’s a _pleasure_.” He is actually purring—and loud. I have a suspicion he is already drunk, but that won’t prevent me from doing my job. “Really, a _pleasure_. Tokino, why didn’t you mention… _this_? I had no idea it would be like _this._ If I had known, I wouldn't have been quite so late.” He isn't exactly quiet about expressing his attraction or delight.

I quirk up an eyebrow while he takes his seat, and Tokino heaves an exhausted sigh. The auburn cat casts an embarrassed look in my direction—almost in apology—and says under his breath, “That’s because I didn’t _know_ , Konoe. It wouldn’t kill you to just go with the flow sometimes, would it?” Then he glances at me and gives me a soft, tired smile.

“I’m Tokino, his manager.”

“Nice to meet you.” 

The server returns to take their drink orders, and I notice the client is liberal with his drinks—he’s young for drinking as much as he does.He orders two shots and a fruity mixed drink I have never heard of, and Tokino orders something diet and caffeinated. 

“Shall we get to business?” I ask.

“It depends,” Konoe replies, fluttering long dark lashes at me. Mascara, I wonder—or no—just really long, gorgeous lashes. He is a really attractive cat. I can see why he’s popular and why the label is worried. “Business with you, I think I wouldn’t mind so much.”

“Christ,” I hear Tokino swear under his breath, and he jumps slightly as though he has been kicked or pinched under the table.

“Let’s try not to waste any more of Rai’s time,” Steve says. “We’ve asked him here to help with your security detail. As you know, Konoe, we’re about to take your album on the road.” He glances at his phone. “And there have been some threats made against your person, as I’m sure you’re aware. However, aside from the ones you’ve seen, there have been others as well.”

“What kinds of threats?” Tokino asks, his ears perking up and his back straightening.

Konoe doesn’t seem interested in the conversation. He is stirring his drink and staring at me. 

“I’d actually be interested in what sort of security you have in your home,” I say—interrupting him once I see Konoe’s complete lack of concern for his own personal safety.

“Well, the _easiest_ thing to do would be to show you,” he says suggestively, smiling slightly.

“If I decide to take this job, I have several conditions you will be required to meet.”

“Oh?” That voice—it’s captivating and distracting. I know exactly what he means when he says he’d like to show me his home. And I won’t deny the offer is tempting, but I am a professional. I’m not about to risk my reputation on the whim of this kid, regardless of how pretty he may be. “It sounds like you might be propositioning me.”

“Jesus, Konoe. Shut up and listen to him. For gods’ sake, this is serious!” Tokino says, exasperated.

“First, you will have to put up with having me around. I will be following you around—and staying with you—for 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

“I think I could handle that. You’re not bad to look at. You have pretty hair, and your fur looks soft.” Those small, pearl-white fangs poke out from over his lips—and honestly, I’ve never seen a male with lips that full. As I can’t help watching him take a sip from his straw, I briefly wonder if taking this job is really such a good idea. 

“Second, you have a _lot_ of freedom right now. Going from no personal security to having _my_ detail is going to feel restrictive. But if you agree to my terms, there is no backing out of it and no complaints. I will have the final say in where you go, when you go, and with whom.” 

“Huh. So you’re one of _those_. I don’t mind playing a little submissive from time to time. It might be fun.”

Steve cringes next to me in the booth, unable to look up—I mean, doesn’t he deal with stars all the time? And Tokino sighs loudly, as though this is just a normal thing he has to put up with. To me, this _is_ normal. I don’t change my expression or respond in any way, which I expect will frustrate the kitten in front of me a little, but he doesn’t seem to lose the supreme confidence oozing from his pores.

“To be clear, this won’t be, as you said, ‘from time to time.’ This will be life-changing. Do you understand that?” I ask, my voice sharpening slightly.

Those golden eyes are captured in my gaze and I see his pupils dilate. He looks slightly—and instinctively—afraid. Just for a moment. His body barely registers a flinch, and _that_ is what I want to see. That—and then the briefest nod of his head.

“I got it.”

“Third, I understand that you’ve led a rather indiscriminate life up till now.”

That word, "indiscriminate," makes those ears perk up—and seeing them this way makes them look really large, cutely oversized like they are too big for his head. They have an odd triangular shape as well, unlike the small rounded ears on my head. They are very expressive—currently registering offense. I ignore it since that was my intent.

“I will be vetting anyone spending time in your presence in advance.” 

“What?” The word is sputtered softly—and I’m not sure if he’s shocked or angry or both. I have had this conversation with many clients in the past, and I know how it goes. It’s best to get this out of the way now before we proceed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I say, lowering my voice, “ _before_ you invite someone into your home or your bed, they will have to be vetted by me—in advance.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” He sounds offended by the very idea—the utter ridiculousness of it. “My _bed_? What exactly do you mean by _vetted_?!”

“I mean a background check,” I say, keeping my voice even and calm, not changing my expression. I have to confess I am amused watching him as he loses his cool.

“Well, how the fuck is that supposed to work?! It’s not like _I_ even know—I mean—shit…” he stops himself for a moment and looks away. My gods, are his _ears_ blushing? Did he just tell me that he fucks people he doesn’t know and now he has the nerve to _blush_ like that—so innocently—about it? That must be the cutest reaction I have ever seen! I have never had to work harder to keep a neutral expression on my face.

“It’s for the purpose of your safety,” I say, “ _sir_.”

“But it’s not like I even always find out their n-” he stops again, and his ears blush even redder, and his cheeks are also dusted a light shade of pink. He’s embarrassed because of this? Or is this what he looks like when he is angry? My gods do I ever want this _job_! 

“Jesus, Konoe,” Steve sighs. “You don’t even bother to find out their _names_? That explains so much!”

“Well, if you’re in a hurry that’s not the _first_ thing that comes up,” he says, still obviously miffed. 

“It _will_ be the first thing that comes up,” I inform him. “The second thing will be where they are from. The third will be their social security number.”

Konoe gapes at me, mouth open. Steve and Tokino both gawk at me as well. I think I hear a growl from the blonde kitten, _right_ after breaking my own rule: no teasing at the first meeting.

“That’s not going to happen!” He snaps. “You’ve got to be kidding! If I don’t even get their names, I’m not going to be able to—”

“I’m sorry,” I smile gently. “I _am_ just kidding. About the social security numbers.”

Konoe looks even angrier now than he was just a second earlier when I told him he had to collect the social security numbers of his lovers. And then I narrow my eyes again and sit up a little taller, leaning across the table.

“Getting their names and where they are from is _not_ negotiable,” I say pleasantly.

“In advance?!”

“Yes.”

“But—my app doesn’t let me do that!” There's an app for everything these days. Jeez! 

“You’ll have to use a different app.” I smile again, infuriating him.

“Gods! How old _are_ you?! There _aren’t_ any apps that let you ask where people are from!”

“It’s possible to find out via some way other than an app, not to burst your bubble or anything—or let _me_ do it—before you meet with them in person,” I suggest. 

The kitten looks absolutely stumped. 

“ _You_ will be screening the cats I bring home to _fuck_?!”

“Basically. I’m saying that while I am working for you, this casual hook-up thing is a severe security risk and it won’t be happening.”

“You’re fucking insane,” he mutters, but he doesn’t stalk away from the table, so I know he’s still in the game. Even if he had walked away doesn't mean the deal is off.

“Konoe, this is for your own personal safety,” Steve presses him.

“What kinds of threats?” Tokino asks again, obviously trying to diffuse the situation. He will be useful in the future. “What are we looking at?”

“My concerns are two-fold. First, I have concerns about over-zealous fans, of which you have quite a few. Going on tour will make you even more vulnerable. The number of fans and their zeal is astounding, especially for as young as a group you are.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Konoe asks, and he is definitely pouting. I took casual sex off the table and he is _pouting_. It’s fucking adorable. It’s my favorite way to start these meetings, to be honest. He’s so cute!

“Take it how you like,” I say neutrally. “Second: the exes of the people who you’ve already screwed, or you plan to screw, coming after you are a high-risk group as well. I’ve already seen some of these people cropping up, claiming to have some beef against you.”

Those large ears perk up again, this time looking nervous.

“I did nothing wrong!” He exclaims indignantly. “I didn’t steal anyone from anyone else! I’ve never slept with anyone who—”

“How do you know, Konoe, if you didn’t even know their names?” Tokino sighs. “Gods damn it. This is a fucking mess. I knew it! Is this what you’ve been doing all this time?”

“When you say _some_ threats,” Steve asks, “I have to confess I’ve only seen one.”

“This was just what I’d found in my search this afternoon,” I say. “If you go on tour, they will come crawling out of the woodwork.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back in my seat. “I’m not trying to spoil your meal or your day or make you paranoid. I’m just telling you what I found.” 

“You’re actually managing to do  _all_ of those things,” Konoe replies in a huffy tone. But I definitely have his attention. And he isn’t purring anymore. I miss hearing it, but I know I can get him to cooperate now.

“Understand, it’s not my job or my goal to control your behavior,” I say, looking at him closely, and he peeks up at me through those long lashes. “I don’t really care how many lovers you have or how often you see them. I just need to make sure they aren't a security risk first.”

“Okay. I get it.” Again, that sulky voice comes out, but it’s sweet. I think we will get along quite well. 

I finish a few details over dinner, and he keeps a very close eye on me. He doesn’t order any more drinks, either—even skipping one of the shots he ordered, much to my surprise. I’m still a little shocked at how well he handles his liquor. He looks sober enough, so I ask if he has thought through my requirements and if he thinks he will be able to work with me.

Steve and Tokino both wait for a moment while he appears to be thinking things over—examining me carefully, and he looks a little afraid like I might bite him. I don’t dislike that look, actually. I'm supposed to be intimidating so he will listen to me when it matters.

“I think I can.” 

“Great. Is there a time I can stop by and see the security at your place? Then, we can make plans about moving forward.”

“Are you free now?” He asks.

“I can be,” I say. 

I realize though once he stands up, he weaves just a little. Perhaps he isn’t quite as sober as I think he is. But it doesn’t concern me since I am a professional. He and I are going to be spending a _lot_ of time together—so we might as well start getting used to each other now, I suppose. 

“Did you drive here?” He asks.

“I did, but I took my bike,” I say. “I will meet you at your address.”

He stands up from the table and stretches—a small meow escaping his mouth when he stretches. It’s a sweet little kittenish sound that adult cats don’t make often. When he stretches, his shirt lifts up and he shows off a small patch of soft white fur just beneath his belly button and above the waistband of his jeans—as well as his red silk underwear—not that I’m looking. But he draws _every_ eye in the restaurant when he stretches. He’s quite a looker. Males and females look his way—even males who are here with a female look his direction, which is an unusual trait.

I’m not sure what exactly is so compelling about him, but he is certainly an attractive cat. He’s fresh and sweet—and _oh_. It's his _scent_. He has a very sweet scent, like honey, floating about him like an aura. It matches his coloring perfectly. I didn’t realize it when he walked in, but I certainly smell it now. And it’s delectable.

For now, I’m doing my best to ignore it. I stand up after he does, and I realize he has done that little stretch for my benefit. I have to smile at his effort, and I feel quite flattered. We’ve paid the bill, of course—and I follow him out to the lobby, watching his adorable, perfect ass bounce as he walks, hips swaying deliberately, tail swishing confidently—and the gold tip has a rather mesmerizing hook at the end, I see. At coat check, I pick up my jacket and helmet. Tokino has valeted the car, but my bike isn’t far.

I tip my head to Steve, who thanks me profusely for my time and apologizes quietly for any awkwardness (and in advance for what is bound to be an interesting evening), and I arrange to meet up with Konoe in his home.

This should be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe invites Rai over to his penthouse for a "security inspection," which doesn't go as Konoe plans, much to his disappointment. They have their first showdown, but Rai finds he has to be kind to him, once he sees how vulnerable and afraid Konoe actually is.

The building is in the central part of the city of Ransen, a new high rise, and of course, the star kitten occupies the penthouse. The building has a doorman, which is a good sign, security wise. I was told to park in underground parking. A keycard is required to enter any floor except the lobby—but those can be hacked, and there isn’t much preventing my client from being followed. The sooner I am by his side and learning his routine, the safer he will be.

I introduce myself to the doorman on the way up to his floor. The older gentleman gives me a nervous glance when I first enter but smiles in a friendly way once I introduce myself as a security expert. He doesn’t seem surprised I’m here for the little superstar. When I ask if he receives frequent guests, and I get an interesting look. 

“Certainly, he has a lot of company—and not only the regular faces,” the doorman replies. “Both males and females show up all hours of the day and night.” 

As I suspected, this little superstar has a life-changing experience ahead of him. 

The doorman sees me to the elevator and sends me to the top floor. The door opens to a hallway. It doesn’t open right into his apartment, which is a good security point. I knock on the door, and even before I can knock twice, he’s answered—barefoot, relaxed, and slightly disheveled. He has been running his fingers through his hair, he's taken off his belt and untucked his shirt, and his scent is even more prominent than at the restaurant. This is his home, after all. In addition to the softly sweet honey scent, I detect a sticky floral undertone as well, perhaps orange blossom or honeysuckle, which is quite unusual.

Jesus, it’s captivating as _fuck_. I’ve never smelled any cat—even in season—who smells as irresistible as he does. My gods. It’s no wonder he fucks around so much!

I am predicting I may have to fight him off, and his scent is going to make it that much more difficult. I brace myself, but I’ve done this before. I’m a fucking _professional_ , gods damn it. 

He flashes me a sexy smile—even more captivating with that scent floating around him and those cute little toes on display—what the hell is wrong with me that I think his _feet_ are cute?!—and he welcomes me inside. He has sent his manager home, so it’s just the two of us.

“So you’ve found me.” His purring voice is back in full force. It doesn’t just pull at my chest as it did at the restaurant. No— _this_ voice yanks at my heart like he’s trying to take something from me by force—something I’d be more than willing to give him under different circumstances. I’m actually feeling a little shaken. He looks so damn vulnerable like this—alone, willing, adorable.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to accept this job, again?

“A prime location,” I remark, keeping my voice calm and neutral. I’m good at hiding my emotions, even when I’m shaken.

I hear him click his tongue slightly, making a mildly irritated sound as he turns away. I’m sure he assumed I’d fall at his feet. That isn’t my goal here, of course, but damn if he doesn’t flick his tail and sway his rounded hips enticingly enough to make my mouth water as he ushers me inside.

I survey the apartment—if you can call a place as big as this an apartment—and it’s been professionally decorated in pale cream—almost as if to purposely bring out the colors of this cat himself. It has the effect of highlighting his skin and delicateness, softening his entire appearance. The carpet is plush, the distressed wood floors are spotless—surprisingly so, considering his slightly disheveled look. The furniture is tasteful (I notice it's slightly too big for his stature), leather accented with a variety of plush textures, such as velvet and silk. Several instruments ranging from guitars to keyboards to several strange ones—one weird looking lute-thing I don’t recognize—are standing in the living area. I wonder if he and his band work here as well.

Seeing him in his habitat—knowing how much time he spends here—he must be alone a lot of the time—and now the music I heard makes a lot of sense. I can guess that he sleeps around to connect with other cats and get a taste of others’ existence, perhaps. Seeing him in this large space makes him look smaller than he is—more fragile, more vulnerable. That makes me want to work harder to keep him safe, really. He needs _more_ than casual sex to get what he is searching for—is he just too young to realize?

“Oh, you _have_ to see the view,” he says, excitedly pulling me to the window, not shy about touching me in the least. Ah—let the seduction begin, I think. I really don’t want to hurt his feelings—which is a thought I don’t think I’ve _ever_ had in my life. When it comes to business, it is _just_ business. When it comes to pleasure, I’m either interested or not, no qualms about it. But now—I feel I don’t want to hurt him. I distinctly remember feeling I might not have minded “taking him down a peg,” while we were meeting at the restaurant just hours ago. But that feeling is long gone now. And all I can think is: I should have come here during the _day_.

But it probably wouldn’t have mattered if I had come during the day or not. I think I would have ended up in a similar situation. And it’s probably not _about_ me. Well—perhaps he feels some sexual attraction toward me—I’m not a bad-looking cat, and I’m sure there’s something exciting about my size in relation to his smaller stature. But mostly, he craves my _attention_. He adores that I am spending time with him, that I genuinely care about him—but I get the feeling that isn’t going to be enough.

The kitten—which is how I see him now, despite the sexual allure oozing from him, dripping from his aura the same way that enticing scent is—pulls me through the living room, casual about inviting me in and enthusiastic about touching me. I must not have been intimidating enough—or else he _enjoys_ that sort of intimidation, which is an issue I’ll have to worry about later.

 _Gods_. If he _is_ into that, I’ll be dealing with it soon enough, I suppose.

The entire wall of the living room is glass, and it overlooks the city lights and river—a breathtaking view, truly. Oddly, I also notice that a) he didn’t bother locking the door behind me, and b) he didn’t set any kind of alarm. 

“Would you like the grand tour, or are you looking or something specific? Maybe I can give you the tour… _after_?” That soft purr deepens, covering his entire voice, adding to his sultry allure. His distressed jeans ride even lower on his hips than they were at the restaurant, and the red silk waistband of his underwear accents soft white fur just below his navel, which he strokes softly after stretching his arms again. He leaves the narrow strip of skin exposed deliberately, and flicks his tail, waving it seductively as he turns toward the kitchen. The lovely cream skin looks beautiful in the low light. “Oh, I’m not being a very good host. May I offer you something to drink?” He wanders into the kitchen, his footsteps padding softly across the floor, and he throws a sexy little glance over his shoulder.

I am getting his best treatment, and I really do not want to disappoint him.

“I’m fine, thanks. I don't drink much on the job. But go right ahead if you will be more comfortable. I'll wait.” I smile—trying to let him down easily—but he needs to know I am here for a reason. And unfortunately (for both of us), it’s not to fuck him. 

He looks slightly disappointed—childishly so—and I watch him pour himself some juice from the fridge into a glass. Juice, then? Good for him—but he makes an awful show of licking his fingers—long, slow, grooming licks. The hair on my nape stands on end and I feel just the slightest tremble down my spine into my tail. When he picks up the glass, he faces me, licks the rim of the glass and then dips his tongue into the juice—scooping it up as though he’s drinking from a bowl.

All he is doing is drinking from a glass—and _juice_ at that. But it looks absolutely _obscene_. It makes me think of what _else_ he might be able to lick and slurp with that agile little tongue, and how soft and pliable those lips actually are. His eyes never once leave mine. I clear my throat.

“So, you offered a tour?”

“I could do that,” he says, sultry but cutely disappointed—but not devastated. He spreads his arms out to the sides. “This is the kitchen!”

“Do you hire help?” I ask. “It’s spotless. The rest of your home is clean as well.” Mostly I want to know if I need to vet the help—either the cook or the housekeeping staff.

“Oh, um…” he looks a little embarrassed. “No. It’s just me. Sometimes my band members come and cook, but I make them clean up. Tokino helps with laundry or he has my stuff taken out to be cleaned. But I do most of the cleaning myself.”

“Really?” I try not to sound impressed, but I probably fail. I do fail since he’s obviously preening under my attention. What—does he think I’m going to fuck him since he will clean up after me? Well. I just might, actually. Crap. He might actually be my ideal. A clean freak with an ideal body? Shit!

“I find it relaxing. And since it’s just me, it’s fine. Occasionally, the label will send someone for deep cleaning, whatever that means. I didn’t choose this place myself. It belongs to the label, of course. But it’s big and a great place to work. Nice and quiet. On this level, there’s a room I can use for an office right in there, but I usually work in the main area.”

“You work from here?”

“Yeah. I write music here."

“With your group?”

“No. Mostly alone. Sometimes we practice together when the songs are finished, but I'm mostly alone.” He opens the glass door to the office. It’s a nice, clean area as well. “You can see I don’t use it much, really.”

Honestly, I’m _shocked_ at how clean it is. This clean house doesn’t fit my image of him at _all_.

I take a peek in the guest room, which is empty and spotless, and there’s a workout room next door as well. That room smells even stronger of his scent, tinged with sweat, but that isn’t a bad combination. It makes the fur at the base of my tail bristle—and he lingers in this room longer than necessary for this reason, since it probably gives me an idea of what he might smell like during a vigorous round of sex. Not subtle. At _all_. Nice try, though. I tastefully ignore it. 

“Do you have a workout routine?” I ask neutrally, instead, trying to get a handle of his daily schedule.

“Yeah. Daily.” Again, that cute disappointed pout appears, sticking out his bottom lip.  
  
“Would you consider adding some additional self-defense to it?” I ask.

“You’re saying you’d teach me?” He asks, perking up a little—and I don’t know if it’s attention or sex that he wants, but I really suspect it’s the former. And gods, those ears when he’s interested are really sweet. They look even bigger perked up. I give him only the briefest glance so as not to get too distracted, and even that is nearly too much for my heart.

Gods, I’m going to need to jerk off when I get home. What a pain in the ass.

“Yes. I’d feel better knowing you had some self-defense training in case of the worst case scenario.”

“Worst case scenario—like, if I’m attacked?” He asks, as though it’s boring. He’s interested, though—his tail is active, his ears are perked, but his voice is bland—though still covered with that seductive purr.

“Well, that wouldn’t be good, but that is not the _worst_ thing that could happen.” We don’t need to get that into that now.

Konoe glances at me nervously. His ears twitch expressively. I need to stop looking!

“What would you like me to call you?” I ask, distracting him deliberately. I ask softly, folding my hands across my chest and leaning forward slightly.

“Ah—my _name_?” He answers in a slightly snarky voice. 

“Not ‘sir,’ or ‘Mr. Konoe,’ or ‘Your Worship’?” I ask. I keep my voice very neutral. I don’t take a snarky tone, although my words are not exactly respectful.

“'Your Worship'?” He asks, and he looks at me with an utterly confused expression, but not anger. Looking at my flat expression, he laughs—a warm, genuine laugh. He gets the dry humor. “I like it, but _no_. The Kuim would _never_ let me live it down. You can call me whatever you like, but Konoe is fine. Um, may I call you Rai?” 

“Or whatever you deem is appropriate should the need arise.”

“Like ‘asshole’?” He smiles at his own joke.

“Should the need arise I won't object,” I reply casually, lifting my eyebrows with a sigh, prompting him to giggle again. “There’s an upper level, as well?” I ask. 

“That’s where I wanted to _start_ the tour, to be honest, and I’m getting there,” he smiles again. “Are you always in such a rush?”

The circular staircase leads to a large master suite (the size of the entire living and dining area and kitchen combined) and another guest room, plus an open area on the rooftop, which can be accessed from either room. There’s an outdoor jacuzzi as well.

“Nice,” I comment.

“Care to take a dip?” Somehow his small body has sidled up to me again, quite closely. I’m not sure how I missed it, but he’s working his _ass_ off. If his lithe form looked soft, I had no idea just how soft he actually _feels_. Just like the photos I saw didn’t do him justice once I saw him in person, the feel of his body pressed up against mine doesn’t  come _close_ to how he looks he might feel. He’s _much_ softer and yielding—almost submissive—and _so_ tempting.

“Don’t mean to disappoint, but I’ll have to pass this evening,” I say, and again, that childish pout shows up on his lips. Just seeing his lips shaped like that makes me want to kiss them all better—and I haven’t felt like kissing another cat in a long while. It’s most likely because he has perfect lips, but I can’t really tell.

Again, I find myself second guessing whether this job is a good fit for me, and I take a deep calming breath. That has the opposite effect of calming me since my nose is now flooded with his delicious scent.

Despite its busy neighborhood, the place is quiet even outside because we are up so high. He leads the way back inside, a little pouty flounce in his hip, as I look around in his bedroom.

“So… how will this work, _exactly_?” He breathes. “Will you be moving in with me? How else are you going to keep tabs on me?”

“Yes. That’s generally how it works. And I’ll travel with you on tour as well.”

“For how long?”

“Till the label deems your environment safe.”

“So—when I stop making music?” He sighs. “How is this different from arranged marriage?” 

This time, I laugh out loud at his ridiculous comment. I’ve heard a lot of comparisons in my day, but nothing quite like this. 

“Kitten, first—I realize you have little choice in the matter. But I’m interested in your _safety_ , not who you _date_. You may not be able to the use apps you’ve been using or relish the immediate gratification as you have been, but you _won’t_ be bored. My background searches are fast—and if you want, I can vet your partners quite quickly.”

“They don’t take, like, two weeks?” He sighs miserably. “I couldn’t _live_ like that. I have to have some _immediate_ feedback.”

“It’s nowhere near that long. One to three days.” 

“I think I can live with that.” His voice softens, eyes sparkling gently. He pushes himself up against me and grabs the collar of my shirt. “And in the _meantime_ , maybe _you_ can keep me occupied if I get bored.”

I chuckle softly. “I try not to mix business and pleasure, though your offer is quite tempting.”

He returns my smile, looking up at me through his long dark lashes. A soft giggle escapes his mouth.  
  
“I am _sure_ I heard you just said the word ‘ _try_.’ So you think you can stay with me and not be seduced?” Konoe purrs lightly, stroking my hair with his claws. Gods—the way he caresses me is shockingly gentle and quite experienced. Even if I can't indulge, it will definitely be part of my fantasy material this evening.

“This is my livelihood, kitten,” I remind him.

“I see. I can’t _wait_ to see how long you last,” he huffs quietly, and tiny little fangs poke over his bottom lip. I’d love to give them a little lick with my tongue, but not tonight.

“Is there a place we can sit down and chat?” I ask.

He boldly drapes himself on the bed—and "dramatic" doesn’t begin to describe his pose. This is not a good idea, I tell myself. However, in this case, I feel I need to establish my dominance and the fact that I do not fear him or his seduction techniques, and so I sit down on the side of the bed a little ways from him so I can meet his eye.

“As long as you feel you can pay attention to my words,” I confirm.

“I will pay your entire body and soul more attention than you’ve had in your entire _life_ ,” he purrs. What a sweet little line—and again, so tempting—but _no_. Not tonight. I need to ask a few questions.

“First, do you have a security system here?” There’s a brief pause—and his golden eyes look confused for a moment and then flicker with a knowing smile.

“Like _restraints_?” He asks. “Actually, I _do_. Are you into that? Oh, my gods. I'd _love_ to.”

Fuck _no_.

“Actually, I meant home security system. As in, an alarm,” I clarify.

He looks disappointed—and now, he actually looks embarrassed. His ears start to blush—and that’s even cuter to me than the way he’s been throwing himself at me. That probably says something about me and my weird tastes.

“An alarm?” He asks.

“Yes. You enter a code when you enter the apartment. Usually, you set the code once you’re inside or when you leave. It will alert you if anyone enters.”

“Oh. There might be something like that in here. I think my manager gave me a code when I moved in, but I’ve never used it. I mean, the door locks, doesn’t it? Isn’t that enough?”

I sigh softly. He didn't lock the door, either.

“If you’re here alone, and the alarm is set, it will alert you if someone enters. If you don't enter the code, the security company will call you, asking for a code word. If you don’t give it to them, they will send help.”

“Okay. I think I set up a code and a password, now that you mention it. It’s on my phone.”

“Have you given it to anyone else?” 

“No. I’ve never used it.”

I sigh again, rubbing my temple lightly.

“All right. We’re going to use it tonight for the first time. I’ll show you how.”

He sighs as well, louder than I do—and obviously irritated.

“You didn’t answer my question. If you’re keeping an eye on me, are you going to live here? With me?”

“Yes.”

His ears flatten and then perk up.

“When? When will you move in?”

“Most likely tomorrow. You have active threats against your person need to be addressed immediately.”

“So… are you staying in my guest room? You don’t think my, um, _activities_ , are going to bother you?" 

“Will mine?” I ask.

His ears suddenly flatten against his head, and his fur bristles. It's a cute reaction.

“I’m _kidding_ ,” I say. “I’m a professional.”

“You’re not going to fuck _anyone_ the entire time you’re working for me?” Konoe looks absolutely appalled. “What are you? Some kind of saint? Have no libido? I can help you with that. Though I guess that makes me feel a little bit better.”

“What, did I hurt your feelings? Please don’t take it personally.” 

“Oh, I didn’t. I took it as ‘not _now_ ,’” he says bravely. “I’m _not_ offended. You're just a _challenge_.” He flashes me that adorable smile again. He looks so young.

“The second thing—every time you enter your apartment, you need to start locking the door behind you,” I say. “It will become part of your routine now.” 

“Well, won’t _you_ do it for me? Isn't that what I'm paying you for?” Again, that flash of fangs sparkles just a little. If it were just teeth, it would be cute. With the tips of his fangs showing, it’s downright sexy.

“Come on. I’ll show you how the alarm works.”  
  
He reluctantly hauls himself off the bed and follows me downstairs. I show him how to close and lock the door—and then I make him do it. I get an impressive eye roll in response, but I simply stare him down till he does it. After clicking his tongue and trying to have a staring contest with me, he finally submits and obeys. 

“Good boy,” I say, and I see the fur on his ears ruffle with my praise. It’s the cutest expression I’ve seen so far. Gods, he _is_ going to wreck my career. I see it going down in flames now. At least this job pays more than I’ve made with my last five combined.

Then, I repeat the process with the alarm. It’s an easy system. He shows me his code and password, and it isn’t “kuim,” which is good.  

“Just remember to enter the code before opening the door. Does anyone else have a key?”

“Tokino,” Konoe says.

“Text him and let him know the alarm is set.”

Konoe sends a quick text.

“Okay.”

“So. That’s all I’ve got for this evening,” I say—and I watch him turn around and pull his phone out of his pocket, opening that dating app. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

He actually jumps. It’s possible he’s forgotten I’m tall enough to see what he’s doing on the phone over his shoulder. All his fur fluffs up at once, and he turns around and looks at me.

“What? Aren’t you leaving? You won’t be back till tomorrow?”

“I asked you a question. What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m, um, just checking my texts,” he lies.

“Give me your phone.”

“No!” He holds it close to his chest.

“Hand it over.”

“Hell no! This is a violation of privacy!”

“Konoe. I saw what you were doing and that was _not_ texting. You are _in_ for the night. What time is your manager coming to pick you up tomorrow?” 

“You can't tell me what to do! You’re not my _mom_ ,” he says rebelliously—and that makes me grab the phone from his hand. I move fast—I’ve done this before—many times—and again, his fur bristles, indignant.

“You’ve lost phone privileges for tonight,” I say.

“What the _fuck_?!” He yells at me.

“Find another activity,” I suggest neutrally. “Take a bath. Sit in the jacuzzi. Work out. Write a song.”

“Give me back my phone! You can’t _do_ this!” He actually stomps his foot, and oh my gods is that the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! I try _really_ hard not to smile and don’t succeed. “The fuck—you’re _laughing_ at me?! You fucking _sadist_!”

“When you accepted my contract at the restaurant, do you remember I said there were several non-negotiable terms?” I growl softly. “Find another activity.”

“Gods damn it! You’re serious?! I fucking _hate_ you.”

He turns around and runs up the stairs, stomping his feet loud. I hear the door to the master suite slam. It looks like I’ll be staying here tonight. There go my private personal plans for the evening to relieve my, er, sexual tension.

I take a seat on the leather sofa in the living room, facing the stairs, and I wait. Five minutes later, I hear the door open upstairs and a soft pair of footsteps descend the stairs. He peeks down, fur bristling in surprise when he sees me sitting on his couch. He's so cute when he's fluffy!

“You’re still here?” He sounds slightly sulky.

“Well, it looks like I'm starting tonight.”

“You’re not, um, leaving?” His voice is calmer and softer. He sounds repentant. He also sounds incredibly lonely. I don’t like the tone of his voice—it’s heartbreaking. 

“No. I’ll stay here till Tokino comes over tomorrow.”

“You will?” His drooping ears and tail perk up, and he comes downstairs the rest of the way, standing at the bottom of the staircase. “You’re not, um, mad?”

“Why would I be?”

“B-because I said I called you a sadist and said I hated you,” he says quietly, sheepishly dropping his gaze.

I chuckle softly.

“You haven’t even called me an asshole yet,” I say matter-of-factly.

He stays standing at the bottom of the staircase for a moment, suddenly looking much younger than before. He buries his toes into the plush carpet, looking down.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asks softly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure you, um, don’t, um, wanna fuck? I won’t tell anyone.” He is looking away when he makes this offer, almost as if he’s a kitten asking a friend to play at his house. It’s jolting—making me realize that I should _not_ , under any circumstances, take him to bed— _tonight,_ anyway. It would be all wrong. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good.” 

“I have no doubt,” I purr softly. “But I shouldn’t.”

“Um. Okay,” he says. There is a short pause, and he remains where he is for a moment. And then he looks up with me with a desperate look in his eyes. “I, um, don’t _do_ this often.”

“Do what?”

“Um, entertain people without fucking them. I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t need to entertain me. You can just ignore me. I’m here for your safety, Konoe. Just pretend I’m not here.” 

A small shiver ripples through his fur—his ears and tail—and he restlessly runs his claws through his hair. 

“I mean, I’m _never_ alone at night.”

Never? Is he exaggerating, I wonder? I consider this. That would make sense, I suppose.

“I can’t, um, fall asleep otherwise.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” I ask, after another small pause.

“N-no. Not at all,” he says.

“Why don’t you go take a shower or relax in the jacuzzi for a bit?” I suggest. “Wind down a bit.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. Now he’s showing me an odd sort of compliance. I watch his (cute) bare feet pad softly up the stairs. I bet he’s headed to the jacuzzi and I bet he’s going in naked.

I head into the kitchen and find a saucepan. I heat up some milk, add a little honey and dried lavender, and pour it into a mug once it’s hot and simmered together for a bit. The old man used to make this for me when I was a kid and had nightmares—they were frequent. It has a nostalgic smell.

I’m guessing he’s probably as decent (or indecent) as he’s going to get by now, so I head on up the stairs with the mug in hand and find him outside in the jacuzzi. He looks a little surprised to see me, but not disappointed. Since the water is deep and the jets are running, I can’t tell if he’s naked, but I don’t look all that carefully. I see he’s got a robe waiting for him, so my guess would be… Well, I’m not going to think about it.

“Here.” Thrusting the mug in the direction of his hands, he looks slightly confused. “Drink it. It should help relax you and help you sleep.”

“Ah, oh. Um.” He takes it from my hands somewhat uncertainly. “Thank you.” He blushes slightly. Why is he blushing about this? It’s confusing. Really, everything about this kitten is confusing. 

I’m about to head back inside when he stops me.

“W-wait!”

I look over my shoulder with my hand resting on the door, about to slide it open. 

“Um, are you going to go to sleep? I mean, um…” he voice trails off slightly. “A-are you tired? You can take the guest room if you like.”

“No. I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“I figure I’d wait till you were settled in.” 

“Oh.” Disappointed again, ears drooping. He takes a sip of the milk. “This is good!”

I smile just a little.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Still, I might take a while.”

“That’s all right. I’ll be here till morning anyway.” 

“Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I’m fine with or without.” I don't need much sleep—certainly not as much sleep a cat his age needs. 

“Do you, um, have to wait downstairs?”

I cock my head to the side slightly as turn around to face him fully. 

“Why?” 

“Well, um,” again, his ears and cheeks blush pink. I wonder if the water is too hot, especially with that warm milk. But then he stammers quietly, “I w-wouldn’t mind if you just s-sat here with me. You don’t have to s-say anything or do anything. I-i know you’re not being paid to entertain me. I j-just don’t want to be alone.” 

“Hmph.” Pausing for a moment, I sigh and then pull up a chair next to the door. I sit down next to the jacuzzi, watching him sip from the mug and float in the water, bubbles floating up from all around his body. It must be a salt-water jacuzzi from the smell. It reminds me a little of the ocean. He relaxes significantly—almost as much as he did when he realized I wasn’t leaving him alone for the night. 

After he finishes his drink, he relaxes a while, humming softly to himself and staring up at the stars, letting the bubbles from the jets run over his claws. He plays unselfconsciously, and it’s fun to watch—like an animal in its natural habitat. There’s something oddly natural about this cat and water, despite the fire I’ve seen burning behind his eyes. He lets his hair get wet and the water drip in his ears.

Eventually, he starts to slow down significantly. I worry I may have to fish him out of the water soon, especially as he suddenly nods off, letting his chin submerge.

“Oy!” I say sharply, but he frightens himself awake.

“Oh—I guess that warm milk really does the trick,” he says, and he struggles a little to climb out of the jacuzzi. I deliberate sat down facing the stairs, so he has to turn away from me to climb out of the water. I’m half expecting it—but after watching him play so unselfconsciously and so innocently, I’m a little surprised to see his ivory-colored skin completely bare in all its glory emerge from the water like the Birth of Venus. I’ve seen his attractive shape before now, but naked, my gods, with that cream-colored skin dusted with pink from the heat of the water, he looks unreal—like a porcelain doll. 

 _Fuck_. That ass is going to be what ruins my reputation. I can _feel_ it. No one has the right to have an ass shaped like that. I mean, it’s just begging for attention. I can’t _not_ look at it, try as I might. I watch it wiggle as he shakes out his fur. Of course, the water sprays me, too, but I don't mind.

Thankfully, he has that robe right there, and he slips it on his shoulders shortly after climbing out of the pool—almost as an after thought—looking up at me watching him in surprise. Again, a pink blush floods his ears and cheeks—such an innocent reaction from someone who has been throwing himself at me all evening. But it’s as if he’s forgotten, and he forgot he was naked, and his guard was completely down. It’s as if he’s a different cat. I like this innocent one—an _awful_ lot.

Don’t get me wrong. I like the sexy one, too. But this one is irresistible in his youthful, honest vulnerability. He’s just _too_ cute.

He doesn’t say anything, but he recovers quickly and tosses a sexy little smile over at me as if to say, “Oh yeah, I was trying to get you into bed earlier, and I still am. I forgot just now, and you caught me at a vulnerable moment but I’m going to pretend you didn’t see that.”

It’s so adorable I have to smile.

“I’ll take the mug down to the kitchen. Think you’ll be all right now?” I ask. “You look pretty tired.”

“Um, I think so. I’m going to brush my teeth. You’ll be in the guest room if I need anything?”

What could he possibly need? And then it occurs to me he probably has been afraid for a while now. Perhaps he’s _afraid_ to stay alone. He probably knows about the threats—perhaps he can feel them even if he doesn’t know the specifics—and he is anxious to be alone. So instead of teasing him, I stay confident and professional. 

“Yes. That is where I will be.”

“Okay. There’s a new toothbrush and toiletries in there if you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” I smile again. I watch him head into the master bedroom and he leaves the door open. I close it and head out the other door and downstairs with the mug, wash it up and put it on the dish rack to dry. Then, I double-check the downstairs area one last time and before returning upstairs. Old habits die hard. This apartment is secure once locked, but I check it just the same.

The guest room is lavish. I hope I don’t get used to this lifestyle. I brush my teeth and take off my boots, sitting in a plush chair with my feet up, staring out the window at the city lights, keeping the light off. It’s calm and quiet—peaceful. I hear the kitten finishing his evening routine—I hear the sink running and then the closet door opens and closes, and then I think I hear him fussing around in bed.

Good. He’s settled.

I give him a few more minutes to settle down—and it’s probably all right that I do because, in a few minutes, I hear soft padding footsteps headed toward my room. 

It’s dark in the hallway and in the guest room, and there's a light on in Konoe’s room. Large triangular ears poke up in the doorway and a tail curls up in a question mark behind his body, his fur still damp and slightly spikey. He’s looking for me—and it occurs to me this cat must not see well in the dark.

“Rai?” He whispers, looking toward the bed, though I’m in the chair. “Are you already asleep?”

“Nope,” I say, trying to keep my voice soft, but I still make him jump and fluff out his fur. He’s shocked to hear my voice from the chair—which is much closer to the doorway than he expected. “I’m still awake. Did you need something?” 

He is working hard to settle his fur, I can tell—and I feel a little bad for startling him. But it was cute to see him bristle like that.

“Um. Yes.” He’s dressed in a pair of red printed silk boxer shorts. If he weren’t so fluffy he’d look awfully sexy, but with his fur fluffed out, he ends up looking very young and very sweet. Who am I kidding? Damn it. He’s _exactly_ my type, bristled fur or no. “I was hoping you might s-sit w-with me? J-just for a little while? If y-you d-don’t m-mind?”

“Sure,” I say, standing up. I follow him back to his room, watching as he slips between the sheets. After watching him struggle for a moment, I tuck the blankets around him and then sit down in a chair next to the window. He snuggles down into the bed, facing me, eyes wide but blinking slowly. 

“You should sleep,” I suggest.

“Mmkay,” he purrs softly, and a yawn escapes his mouth followed by a childish meow. A deep, rich purr emanates from the bed. He looks up at me again, but his eyelids seem ridiculously heavy, almost as though he’s struggling against sleep. 

“It’s fine. Just close your eyes and sleep,” I whisper. I try to keep my voice neutral, but it ends up sounding kinder than I intend. I can’t seem to help myself around this small cat. His lonely desperation reminds me of myself in my younger years, and it pulls at my heartstrings. It’s no wonder his music is so moving—it’s a loneliness with which all Ribika can identify.

It doesn’t take very long—five minutes? Ten, perhaps? But soon, his breathing is soft and regular. He purrs in his sleep. Of course, he would. That fits him to a T.

I sigh softly and stand up. I close the door to the master suite and then stop partway. I end up leaving the door to the guest room open the same amount in case he wakes. I lie down on the bed, keeping my clothes on—and it’s really comfortable. Strangely, however, it also smells like the small cat. I wonder if he sleeps in here sometimes as well. Or does _other_ things.

 _Not_ helpful, I think, quickly pushing the thought from my mind.

The blinds are open on the wall of windows, so I can watch the cityscape from the bed—peaceful and strange from this height. Luckily, I can’t hear Konoe purring, but I will hear if he gets up. For now, he seems to be resting easily. Time creeps by slowly, but I don’t mind. I close my eyes and rest an hour or two, but I will save my real rest for once we are more established and I’m familiar with his routine. 

Additionally, I don’t trust him yet. I don’t know him well enough. He might have a sneaky side or an additional phone I don’t know about. Perhaps he’s actually contacted some stranger via that hook-up app already, using it under his sheets—

Then I realize I didn’t check his room for other phones. He looked so guileless—so artless—so I never thought he could deceive me like this. That was foolish on my part. However, if a stranger shows up and knocks on the door, or if the alarm resets, I will definitely hear it. 

That keeps me awake and alert for the rest of the night. I plan a training regimen for him to start the next morning while I wait for the morning to come. I’m really looking forward to working with this kid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai spends a remarkably uneventful night with his superstar client. After rising early and working out, he also helps Konoe with his first self-defense session.
> 
> Triggers: non-con touching and nudity.

Superstar kitten sleeps late the next morning, giving me the privilege of watching both the moon of shadow set and the moon of light rise from the guest room in peace and quiet. Pale rays of light shine in softly through the window, giving the room a completely different aura.

I head downstairs to make coffee and drink some water. I also start my own workout routine. I usually stick to running, push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups—a routine I can keep up anywhere. But I do check out his available equipment, and it’s pretty nice.

He gets up an hour into my routine, and I’ve just finished. I’m drinking water and mopping sweat from my brow. Of course, I can’t do my usual run without leaving the apartment, and while treadmills aren’t my favorite, it looks like I’ll be putting up with them for a while.

He looks sleepy, but he’s dressed in sweatpants—and _only_ sweatpants—showing off a lot of creamy skin. Gods, he’s gorgeous, even just out of bed and maybe because he's just risen from bed. His hair is a mess, and he still has sleepy-looking eyes. His fur is disheveled, and I feel my mouth fill with saliva when I look at his ears and tail, resisting a strange compulsion to groom him.

I notice him staring at me, too. I’d found a pair of basketball shorts in the guest room wardrobe, which I’ve borrowed for my workout routine. I can feel his eyes examining my skin and my chest—I guess he hasn’t seen much of me naked. I couldn’t find a comfortable tee-shirt, and I wasn’t about to work out in the button-down, so I'm shirtless with just a towel around my shoulders. I’ve pulled my hair up as well.

“You’ve made yourself right at home, I see.” He sounds excessively pleased with himself, the vulnerable kitten from last night is long gone. “Did you sleep well?”

“I was comfortable,” I say neutrally, but I don’t tell him I was up half the night. Then I soften my voice a little. “How about you? You sleep all right?”

“Ah! Um, yeah.” His toes dig in the carpet, and those gold eyes shift nervously away from me. I see a blush appear on the base of his ears.

I don’t get this kitten at all. He was just coming onto me, obviously, but he gets embarrassed and shy when I ask him how he slept? Does he really feel that vulnerable? It’s awfully cute.

“I’m glad to hear it. What’s your usual morning routine?”

“Oh. I usually work out in the mornings before Tokino gets here.”

“Great. I’m going to add to your routine starting today,” I say firmly.

“Okay.” He steps around me—surprisingly careful not to make physical contact with me as he walks into the workout room. He pulls a water bottle from the fridge—I didn’t even see that there was a fridge in here, but there is—and takes a long swig of water. He also puts on some music.

He starts with basics, which I’m glad to see. The cat is incredibly limber. He should be, I suppose, as he's a performer and dancer. He does dance stretches and basic strength building like pushups, pull-ups, sit-ups in various angles—and then he moves to the barre.

“I have a tour coming up, so I’ve been working out some of the routines at home. Do you mind?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Also, do you mind if I turn it up a little? Or will that bother you?”

“Do whatever you need to do. Don’t concern yourself with me,” I say. I take a seat in the corner and watch.

He walks back to the stereo and turns up the volume. After running through a basic ballet warmup at the barre, he moves to the center of the floor in front of the mirror and he takes a few deep breaths. I watch the aura around him change. It’s almost like he absorbs the light and music around him, as though gathering attention with his body. It’s impressive.

He goes through several pieces of choreography—and while I don’t see any mistakes, he runs through the same pieces several times while watching himself in the reflection. There is nothing else but him and the music in this room when he performs. He is using his body to express the emotions of his music.

I wonder suddenly if this is the choreography he plans to use on tour, and it is quite impressive—especially if he’s arranged it himself and if he plans to sing while performing it. I want to ask, but I don’t want to interrupt his flow.

 _Flow_. That is the perfect way to describe his movement. Like water, almost. He starts off slow and then warms up, and now, it’s again like watching him in the jacuzzi. He belongs here—this is his natural habitat. 

I’ve done security for other music performers before, but none for whom this environment came so naturally. Of course, he’s working up a sweat, but I can feel the elation pealing off his small body in waves—and he actually looks _bigger_ dancing. He uses the space well. He’s captivating as fuck. And my gods—his ass is incredible. I can't look away. 

When he is finished, I’m not sure I’m done watching him yet. But he looks up, almost surprised to find me sitting there, as though he's forgotten about me.

“Ah—I went on too long. I’m sorry.” 

“Are you going to be okay? That was a lot of work,” I point out.

“Yeah, let me just stretch it out first, and then we can get started. I usually do a little weight lifting or running afterward.”

I watch him stretch—and he can do the splits, it seems. He’s _really_ limber—did I already mention that? I can’t help thinking what his flexibility would mean for the bedroom, and gods, it’s too early to be thinking about that! Instead, I take a big swig of water and make a quick trip to the restroom, splashing cold water on my face and neck.

“A _professional_ ,” I remind my reflection quietly.

He’s vulnerable here in his home. It’s not my place to either come on to him or succumb to his advances. He’s supposed to trust me for his safety. Taking advantage of him would defeat that purpose.

Wouldn’t it?

Sighing, I come back out to find him guzzling water—and he smells so nice. His sweet honey and floral scent is even stronger and lovelier when mixed with the slightly salty smell of sweat. Leaving the room and returning is a shock to my system, and I’m sure my pupil dilates slightly—and he _notices_. Shit. I see a slight smirk.

“So, is this a contact sport?” That purring voice asks hopefully.

“Heh. It is, I guess.” I return the smirk.

I start by showing him a few basic things he can do for self-defense if he is grabbed or touched without his consent. We practice in front of the mirror over a mat.

I am working to teach him to throw his attacker, at some point. He should be able to, with his build and low center of mass. 

At first, he spends some time messing around, which I expect of him, honestly. But he doesn’t do exactly what I expect, grabbing my ass or whatever. He keeps trying to touch my tail, which I find slightly unnerving. And then he pulls my ponytail out, letting my hair down and combing his claws through it.

“Look, you’re supposed to be defending yourself,” I say.

“Hmm,” he hums softly. “It’s just the perfect opportunity to touch you, though.” 

The next time his hands shoot out toward my body, I flip him upside down onto his back. I don’t throw him hard, but I moved him so fast he bristles his fur in surprise and he stares up at me in shock. 

“Wh-what—what the fuck was that?! How the _hell_ did you move so fast?!”

“If you were paying attention, this is what I’m trying to teach you,” I say.

“Do it again!” He climbs to his feet. “Can you show me in slow motion?”

I comply—and he watches in the mirror. Those gold eyes watch my every move. 

“Okay. I think I understand now. Let me try.”

I chuckle softly.

“Shall I go easy?”

“Hah,” he says, smirking up at me. 

To my surprise, he does grab me where my pivot point should be—he _did_ learn from watching—more than he learned from where I was trying to explain the process, that’s for sure. He can’t get my feet to budge, though. He will eventually, I think—with enough practice. I explain that in the meantime, he should use whatever he has at his disposal and to go for the other cat’s weak spots.

We spar for a while—well, not sparring, exactly, but I let him try to attack me while I defend. He ends up on the ground more than half of the time, but he has a good sense of humor about it. It goes well for our first session.

Not wanting to exhaust him, I call time after 30 minutes.

I notice his phone is buzzing on the counter. He glances up when he sees it, looking at me hopefully.

“It’s probably Tokino.”

When I pick up the phone, it is the manager. So I hand the phone to Konoe. He’s on his way, and Konoe mentions we’ve set the alarm. Once he hangs up, he looks at me hopefully, but I shake my head and I take back the phone, making his ears droop in that comically exaggerated way. I mess around with the settings and then hand it back to him.

“Oh, my gods. You’re fucking kidding!” Those gold eyes stare up at me in disbelief.

“What? You don’t want it?” I ask calmly.

“I do, but—”

“No complaints,” I remind him.

“But… _parental_ _controls_?!”

“I can’t trust you with the hookup app, can I?” I point out. “This is a compromise. Either deal with it or don’t use it. It’s all the same to me.”

He bristles his fur and he plops down on the floor—I notice with some amusement, on the mat, since it’s a padded surface. He is sulking.

I’d like a shower, but I have to wait till Tokino arrives. I don't trust Konoe further than I can throw him. I also need to get my stuff over here. I don’t have much—a few changes of clothes and toiletries, weapons and the like. I didn’t see a safe on the tour, so I ask.

“Do you have a safe in this house?”

“A safe? Not that I know of. Why?”

“That’s fine.” That’s the only piece of furniture I’ll need to bring with me. I won't be leaving weapons out for him to touch.

Soon enough the doorbell rings and Konoe jumps up.

“Don’t forget to disarm the alarm,” I say quietly.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” His voice is still slightly sulky.

As soon as Tokino is inside, I nod to him—and he seems somewhat surprised to see me. I head upstairs to take a shower.

The guest room has an opulent bathroom. The shower and bathtub are really nice—but I don’t see myself getting to use the bath anytime soon. I strip out of my sweaty clothes and turn on the shower.

After shampooing my hair and combing conditioner through it, as I'm soaping up my body, I hear the sound of the door opening. Subtly, my ears twitch toward the door.

Damn it. With his _manager_ here? That little twerp just waltzed in here, and he’s trying to be sneaky about it. I don’t turn around, but I can tell it’s him. I can smell him and I recognize his footsteps, though he is obviously trying to be quiet.

I hear the door close very softly behind him, but since steam escapes the bathroom, it’s obvious someone opened the door. He wouldn’t know this, I’m sure. He’s just a kid. But now I’m curious what he's planning to do. I feel strangely nervous. It isn't that this kind of thing hasn't ever happened with other clients. It happens all the time. I just don't remember ever feeling anything about it before.

I don’t sense him approaching, but I hear him rustling around a little. I bet he’s stripping off his clothes.

Gods. Wait a minute. Maybe I should stop this before it goes further—

But before I can bark at him, the shower door opens and I feel a pair of small arms encircling me from behind. His scent is even stronger than before since it travels so well in the steamy air. It's like a little piece of heaven sinking into my nostrils. Jeez! Plus, his skin is even smoother than it looks. He pulls up his entire (very naked) body behind mine, rubbing his nose against my back and my hair, which is currently wet with conditioner.

I hear a quiet sigh and I can feel him purring softly. He’s not exactly relaxed, either—at least, the lower part of his body isn’t. 

“Hi,” that captivating purring voice whispers softly. It also sinks into my ears. Gods, maybe I should just throw my career down the toilet. Except... his manager is just downstairs! Damn it!

His purring voice is so nice, seeping into my body with the steam and water. I almost don’t want to turn around for fear of seeing him soaking wet and vulnerable and small in the shower with me.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?” I growl.

“Um, I was just taking a shower,” he says softly. His voice doesn’t hold the same confidence as it did this morning. He sounds so defenseless. I’m really afraid to look at him—I have a hard time resisting _this_ version of the kitten.

Really, now, what does that say about me? Ridiculous!

“Is there something wrong with the shower in your room?” I ask.

“Yes. _You_ aren’t in it.” I can hear his bottom lip stick out stubbornly. 

“Look. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your efforts—and you did very well today,” I turn around, keeping my gaze on those eyes, looking up at me through the steam, and away from his pretty little form and all that creamy and pink skin. “I’m very proud of you. But we can’t do this.”

“I think we can. In fact, we are.” He smiles softly, running his claws down my throat, my chest, my sides, my waist, my hips…

I catch his hands quickly.

“Konoe.” 

His fur bristles out when I say his name. Gods, it’s adorable. Wet and spiky and cute.

“I think _you_ have work to do.” I pin both his hands with one of mine, ignoring the sexy gasping sigh that comes out of his plush lips in response, grab a towel from outside the shower, and physically move him outside the shower, wrapping his small and lovely and very naked body in the fluffy white towel like a burrito. “Wait. Your. Turn.”

His face registers just a brief look of pain and hurt—honest to goodness _pain_ —from my action. And I feel really bad. But I’d feel worse if I fucked him. I think he would, too—at least afterward. For sure, neither of us would feel bad at the _time_ , but I can’t think about that now—not while I'm in the shower.

And gods damn it! I was hoping for a little privacy in here! _Fuck_. I’ll take care of my own needs when I get home, I guess. If I don’t, I won’t be able to make it through the week here.

I quickly rinse my hair in cooler water and then turn off the water. I shake my fur dry, looking up and finding Konoe’s eyes on me again. He is looking at my fur.

“Your hair doesn’t tangle when it’s wet?” 

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry for intruding,” he says quietly, ears drooping. “I’ll go take a shower now.”

His entire form is much less confident than it was just a few moment ago. Looking at him, the confidence that was dripping off his body earlier has vanished and he looks much smaller. I feel so bad, but I can’t give in, even as much as I’d enjoy it. I think he must be afraid. He probably has been for a while. I should let him talk about it at some point, I guess.

Before he leaves, I turn around to face him, covered in a towel from the waist down. 

“Listen,” I say softly, grabbing the towel draped over his slightly slumped shoulders. I mean to whisper in those oversized ears, but he glances up at me. His eyes look slightly glassy—gods—are those tears? Shit! I pull him a little closer—enough to get a nice whiff of his wonderful scent. I really would _love_ to fuck him. “It isn’t that I don’t find you enticing. You are enchanting. I just have to maintain a professional boundary for the sake of your safety. Do you understand?”

He blinks once. Then twice. Then I watch as his ears perk up and a small smile spreads across his face.

“I know. It’s just, um, you smell so nice. I couldn’t _not_ try.”

He gives me a sassy smirk.

“Plus, I wanted to see you naked. I’m satisfied. For now, anyway.”

With those words, he turns on his heel and makes a dramatic exit, lifting up his towel enough to expose his naked backside to me on his way out, wiggling his adorable ass and flicking his tail along the way. My heart makes a funny little fluttering motion in my chest.

Gods damn it. I'm a _professional._ And he is going to be the death of me. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe has his first face-off with Rai and WINS. He wants to go to a new club and he is able to talk Rai into letting him go--with him as an escort, of course.
> 
> The results of his win are less than satisfying, however.
> 
> Trigger: attempted assault, PTSD, depression, references to previous trauma.

After getting dressed, I go over Konoe’s schedule with Tokino, as well as our new protocol for the alarm and his phone. I mention I’ve installed parental controls to prevent him from downloading any apps unauthorized by me, and Tokino seems relieved. Then, I head back to my apartment to pack.

It seems dark, dingy, and lifeless after spending so much time in the kitten’s presence, though I’ve never felt that way about it before. He must have a pretty magnetic personality to be able to affect me. I tend not to be affected easily by such things.

The label has arranged a moving company to take my belongings over to Konoe’s this afternoon. I’ve packed my clothes and am considering subletting the apartment. It might be worth it, depending on how long the job will be, and then pack any remaining belongings. I don’t have much stuff, really. Everything I own fits in a suitcase and that safe. Well, and my box of tools. The apartment is furnished, of course, which I will leave for the next tenants. I’ll use the usual internet booking service and cleaners. 

I’m ready to head back to the superstar kitten’s by evening. He should be finished with his work by then, as well. I plan to go over the threats with him this evening.

My safe is installed in the guest room by then. Tokino looks exhausted, though he’s spent much of the day in Konoe’s company. I don’t know if Konoe spends a lot of time coming onto him as well, or if he doesn’t deal with him in the same way I do, but both cats are glad to see me.

Tokino greets me with a relieved expression. And Konoe, well, his greeting is enthusiastic, to say the least. He leaps up from his position on the couch, where he has been playing guitar. He leaves the guitar in place and rushes into my arms the moment I walk in the door. (I have my own keycard, which he doesn’t question. He _should_ question it, frankly.)

“Rai! I’ve missed you! I’m so excited you’re back! We’re going out on the town tonight! You’ll come with me, won’t you?” 

Even in this short period of time, I’d forgotten several things. First—his scent. It’s overpowering and sweet. I consider the date for a moment. With some degree of horror, I realize the mating season isn’t exactly far in the future, which means his scent is about to get worse. What is wrong with me that this kitten smells so damn delicious? He literally makes me salivate. Second—he’s so soft. When he rams his body into me, it isn’t that he isn’t fit and muscular, because it is. I saw him move and dance this morning. I saw all those push-ups and situps he can do. He’s _all_ muscle. But at the same time, he molds himself around my body like a puzzle piece, making his flesh nearly as soft as his fur. It matches that scent.

 _Shit_. I’m in deep shit. 

“What are your plans this evening?” I ask, unable to ignore the comment he made about going out on the down while delicately pushing him away from me, trying to keep him at arm’s length. It isn’t working. This is only making me touch him more, put my hands in his fur and on his soft skin, and that’s making everything worse. He’s almost liquid. Jesus!

“A club! There’s this great new club I heard about—it’s all the rage! I _have_ to check it out! Come on, we have to go!” 

“A club?” I consider. “No.”

“No?” Konoe looks up at me. “Just like that? You say no? You don’t even consider it? But I have been stuck in here all day, and I have to get _out_ to be inspired. They have a great light show, I hear!”

“They could fuck penguins there and my answer would still be no. We need to consider and assess your immediate security risks first.” I don’t raise my voice, but why something so vulgar would come out of my mouth so soon is a little surprising to me. Whoops. It's his fault for rubbing all over me!

“But I want to _go_! It will be fun. Come on!” His voice takes on a whiny tone.

“Don’t you remember the rules you agreed to when you employed me?” I remind him.

“But I _want_ to! I’ve been stuck in this apartment _all day_. It’s boring!”

“What did I just say?” I ask, trying to remain calm.

Konoe’s ears flatten.

“I’m _going_ ,” he says firmly. “I want to go dancing. And I’ll be just fine if you come along. Unless _you_ can’t keep an eye on me among all those people. I bet _that’s_ it. You don’t know _how_ to do that. I mean, it’s probably hard with your _advanced_ _age_ and all—” 

Again, much to my own surprise, I grab Konoe’s chin and point it up toward my face. I probably do this a little more roughly than necessary, and it makes all that pretty fur fluff out in that gorgeous way. It makes the fur on the base of my tail bristle just a little.

“I said _no_. Not tonight. Tonight we stay in and assess security risks. We make a plan.”

“Um,” Tokino interrupts. “Sometimes, um... Rai?” 

I glance up at him, narrowing my eye. I probably look a little irritated, but right now, I don’t give a shit. I’m having a power struggle with a client who agreed to follow my rules and is intent on getting on my nerves. And he’s doing a damned good job of it. 

“Um, Rai? Sometimes if you, um, give Konoe a little breathing room and let him stretch his wings a little, he will behave a little better for you later. I’m, um, just saying this from my own experience.”

I stare down at the pretty little face I’m currently cupping in my hand. Golden eyes flutter up at me, completely unintimidated. What the _fuck_?! Does he _enjoy_ being handled roughly?! Worse—he _deliberately_ provoked me? What a little _shit_! I take a few deep breaths to calm myself—and that doesn’t really help, either, since each breath gives me a lungful of that amazing scent. Shit. I might as well kiss my career goodbye.

“All right. A compromise,” I suggest, releasing his chin.

His entire face lights up like that of a child’s being told today is his birthday. He doesn’t move away from my body, so I push him away from me, trying to give him a gentle hint. He doesn’t take it and sticks to me like a magnet. Gods damn it!

“Anything! I’ll do… anything! And I mean _anything_ you want…” His eyes close part way, flashing those dark lashes in a sexy way.

“Konoe, leave the man alone! You’re going to scare him off,” Tokino mumbles, holding his face in his hands. I wonder if he’s had to deal with this sort of behavior for the past few months since the Kuims’ first record dropped. That’s most likely why his manager looks so tired.

“I will _consider_ the club on several non-negotiable conditions.”

“Anything! I just want to get out of here and _dance_!” The kitten sounds as though he’s been imprisoned in this amazing penthouse his entire life. It’s slightly amusing, and I have to hide my smile.

“All right. First, you won't be bringing anyone home. I know this isn’t your usual routine, but it’s going to be your new routine.”

His ears fold back against his head and his bottom lip pokes out for a moment, but then, a mischievous look appears in his eyes that causes suspicion to bloom in the back of my mind.

“Okay. What else?”

“Second, there will be no exchanging of numbers with a single soul you meet at this club.”

He nods.

“What else?”

“You will be limited as to how much you are allowed to drink. When I tell you it’s last call, it’s the last call. I don’t want to have to carry you out of the bar.”

“Okay,” he looks slightly offended. “I can hold my drink. Who do you think I am? Anything else?”

I consider carefully, looking at the glint in his eye, and I realize I have probably made a mistake in agreeing to this. For the life of me, I can’t think of what it could possibly be, though.

“That’s it.”

“All right. It won’t be as fun as usual, but I can handle it. And you’ll be okay if I dance with whomever? And if I let them by me drinks?”

“Of course. I told you I’m not here to police your behavior.” 

“And you won’t be offended if I, um, flirt my ass off?”

“Do what you like,” I say. But I do wonder how that will go over with someone my size looming over him.

“How close do you have to be to me in a place like this? Are you going to have to be on the dance floor with me?”

“Fuck no,” I say. Not part of my job description.

“But I think it’s a requirement in order to get into the club.” I’m not mistaken when I see two rows of perfect teeth grinning up at me.

I sigh. I know better than that.

“It’s gonna be fun!” Konoe says. “I’m going to get changed.”

He excitedly runs upstairs, fur slightly fluffed out. 

“Was this my first mistake?” I ask Tokino quietly.

“If you can keep an eye on him, you’ll be fine. And he needs to get some of that energy out,” Tokino says in a tired voice. “Would it help if I tagged along?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” I smile at him. “It looks like you could use some rest. Good job today.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. He’s, um, a bit exhausting. But he hasn’t always been like this. I’m not sure what happened, but about three months ago, something changed and he just kinda went off the deep end. His personality changed and he just went nuts. He used to be shy and sweet and, well, more obedient. Now, it’s like he’s a total maniac. I hate to say that about him since he’s my friend—we’ve been friends since we were kittens. But he won’t talk to me about what happened.”

Huh. Interesting, I think. That’s before the band got popular, too.

Tokino hollers upstairs to Konoe, saying he’ll see him tomorrow, and takes his leave. I don’t change my clothes. Instead, I just wait downstairs—for nearly an hour—for the superstar kitten to come downstairs. When I hear soft footsteps padding down the staircase, I look up.

He’s got a rather interesting outfit on. It definitely reads, “fuck me.” The tightest distressed jeans I’ve ever seen show off every curve to his hips, as well as the erection he is currently sporting, and his slim fit tee leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s showing way too much of that creamy colored skin of his. He’s got his hair pulled back in a single braid off to the side, so it shows off his collarbones through the low v-neck. He’s wearing platform boots, making his legs look longer and even more shapely, giving him a few more inches in height.

I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from making him go back upstairs to change.

_I’m not his mother, damn it._

“What do you think? How do I look?” He gives a proud little twirl at the bottom of the stairs. The platforms give his hips more sway than usual when he walks.

“Very nice,” I say quietly. I mean it, too. He looks good enough to eat. I’m starting to think this was a _very_ bad idea. 

“Let me just grab a drink first. Do you want anything?”

“I’m fine.” I’ll need to be at peak condition this evening, I suspect.

I use a ride share service to the club and sit next to him in the back seat, and he chooses the music, tapping his feet and bouncing his legs. I sit behind the passenger seat, and he sits in the middle, _right_ next to me. He’s obviously eager to get out of the house, a bundle of excitement and anxious to move. He’s really a lot like a kitten, and it’s cute to watch. 

“Listen. I want you to stay within my sight at all times. I need to stay within ten meters of you at all times. If you can’t manage that, I have no qualms about dragging you out of there. Do you understand?”

“What if I have to pee?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Hmph. So you're into _that_ ,” he says provocatively, staring up at me. His eyes are glowing in the under the city lights as we drive, and that familiar confidence is pouring off his body in waves in time to the music. 

When the car lets us out, there’s a line into the club around the block, but Konoe walks right up to the red velvet rope and flashes his smile—as well as that slim strip of creamy skin just above the waistband of his jeans, I can’t help noticing—at the bouncer.

“Oh, my gods,” the bouncer says. “You’re that guy—the lead singer of Rage Against the Kuims, right? Konoe? And this is…”

The bouncer looks me up and down.

“He’s my security escort,” Konoe says. “Delicious, don’t you think?”

The rope is moved aside for both of us, and Konoe gives a little wave to the others standing in line—and I hear a deafening sound of screams behind us.

This was a _very_ bad decision.

The kitten turns every head when he wiggles into the bar, parting the crowd like a sea. Even if he isn’t recognized for the star he is, he catches people’s eyes because of his look and that delicious scent, as well as that adorable, confident strut. He looks around and heads to the bar first.

I also look around for the nearest exits and pull on a pair of sunglasses. The first thing I notice is the “light show.” It’s designed to appear benign, but it has a slight aphrodisiac and sedating effect, similar to catnip on some cats, pulsing to the music. It wears off almost immediately once you are no longer exposed to it. Contact lenses and polarized lenses block out its effects, and I need to be aware of my surroundings, especially with all the attention my client is attracting.

And gods, is he ever attracting attention!

When he walks to the bar, he is surrounded by drink offers, and man, does he eat up the attention. Strangely, he looks over his shoulder to make sure I am still within his sights—which I am impressed by. Is he actually complying with my order? I look carefully at his face when he glances at me—but it seems he’s checking to see if I am watching him and the attention he gathers. Briefly, I wonder if he feels unsafe here.

He turns back to his admirers and selects a brunette male—attractive with a medium build—and accepts his drink. He’s pretty good about keeping his eye on the drink and not letting it out of his sight. Even if he does get drugged, I’m right here, so nothing is going to happen that he doesn’t want to have happen.

The brunette notices me watching them and apparently asks about me, and I see Konoe lean in and answer him—I have no idea what he tells him, though. After they finish their drinks, Konoe pulls the brunette out to the dance floor and they dance.

To say that Konoe is a better dancer than the brunette (or anyone in this club) is a bit ridiculous. It’s how he makes his living, after all. He enjoys the attention—but this dancing is different than what I saw him doing during his work out. And as the night progresses, and he moves from one partner to the next—the partners seem reluctant to give him up, I notice—he bends his knees more, sways his hips even wider, and holds his partners even closer. He teases ferociously, touching and not touching, using every part of his body that moves from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail to entice and enthrall. He switches up between male and female partners and even buys a few of his own drinks and several drinks for others.

As I watch my charge, I have several cats come up to me, drinks in hand, asking me to dance, and I have to explain I’m working. The club gets incredibly crowded—hundreds of people in here at once, everyone intoxicated by the lights or drink. And still, there seems to be a small area around the kitten wherever he goes, like he absorbs the light and attention and music. He’s got that special magic so many stars crave.

Then—I notice a male with bigger stature and short, spiky chestnut hair he danced with earlier in the evening come back for a second round. The dance floor is packed now—and I’m leaning up against the wall, quiet. The kitten was interested in dancing at first, and then slightly resistant. But his partner buys him a drink and Konoe dances with him again. 

And then, well, the chestnut cat makes the mistake of pulling my client off the dance floor, tugging him roughly by the arm. I see Konoe stumble, which is what gets my attention, since the kitten doesn’t ever move like that—he doesn’t trip or stumble, not ever, unless someone else is touching him roughly. Unfortunately, his current dance partner has not noticed me.

I move quickly, keeping an eye on him and trying to get a better look at Konoe’s face—to see if this is what he wants—as his partner is dragging him off to the restroom. If they are going in there for a secret little rendezvous and this is Konoe's desire, it might be awkward if I interrupted. And I didn't forbid it, after all. But if he doesn't want it... well, this is my job. As it looks, it _doesn't_ look consensual. Konoe is still stumbling slightly, looking around almost desperately, and I think I see a flash of fear on his expression, which he attempts to hide. That makes me move a little faster.

The chestnut cat pushes open the bathroom door and pulls Konoe inside after him, and I’m about ten seconds behind him.

“You know you want it,” I can hear the partner saying. “You wouldn’t be dancing with me like that if you didn’t. So come on, let’s do this. Get over here.” His voice is rough and mean—and I listen for Konoe’s response and hear nothing.

I look under the bathroom stalls and see Konoe’s platform shoes in the larger handicapped stall pushed up against the wall. I can’t tell if they are struggling or not, and I don’t wait to find out. I just kick open the door.

“Pardon the interruption,” I say, and I grab both of the chestnut's hands, squeezing them roughly and pulling him off my client. Konoe’s scent is changed—it’s sweaty from dancing and still sweet like honey, but I also smell fear. His golden eyes look up at me, and they are filled with relief.

“Who the fuck’re you?!” The other cat shouts at me, angry and struggling. I push him up against the wall, hard enough so the wind is knocked out of him. He needs to pick on someone closer to his own size.

The moment I get the other cat away from Konoe, the smaller cat crouches down on the floor, making himself as small as possible. It’s a strange, childish, completely unexpected movement—like he is afraid for his life. Something inside my chest lurches when I see it, and something inside my brain clicks into place. He has been traumatized—and possibly recently. I didn’t realize it before, but I see it now. It all makes sense—these odd behavior shifts, mood swings, and Tokino’s words about something changing three months earlier.

“Oy!” I address Konoe. I had only intended to assure my client was being ushered into the restroom of his own free will, and looking at him now, it’s obvious he is not here on his own free will. I have to get him out of here. I ignore the other cat, tuning him out completely, putting my large body in between him and Konoe, crouching down in front of the small cat. 

Konoe is frozen with fear, and his eyes are shining and wet. He is staring up at me. He doesn’t say anything at first. He looks up at me with nothing but that awful terror in his eyes.

“Are you all right? Will you come with me?”

Still not speaking, he manages a quick nod of his head. I’m relieved to see a spark of recognition fill his eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

A quick shake of his head, no this time. But his pupils remain dilated, fur still bristled fearfully.

“Do you want to leave with me?”

He nods firmly. He’s still acting strangely—and has been since his arm was grabbed. His body is stiff and awkward, almost mechanical, not moving in those graceful, smooth movements I’m used to seeing from him.

“All right. Do you think you can you walk?” For appearance's sake, it would be better for him to walk than for me to carry him out of here, but I will do whatever is required.

When I see the first few tears slip down his cheeks, I don’t wait for his reply.

"I've got you."

Instead, I scoop him up in my arms and I hear a small meow escape his mouth. Good. A sound. It’s a helpless one, a reflexive sound, but it’s a sound nonetheless.

“Come on. You’re all right now. It’s going to be fine,” I say into his ear, and the minute I pick him up, he relaxes into my chest and presses his face against my shirt like he is hiding. He feels amazingly light and incredibly vulnerable, and to my utter surprise, as I leave the bathroom, I feel his body hitch in a sob—it’s a quiet sound, but he is crying. It hurts my chest, but to do my job, I push those feelings aside and find the nearest exit.

We leave using the back door, rather than going out the front, just for the sake of his privacy, and I give him a few minutes in the deserted alley to regroup. In those few minutes, my shirt is soaked through with his tears, and I just hold him, letting him cry. I don’t know what else to do. I feel his body convulsing in my arms, though he isn’t very loud. But it’s as if he’s letting out something he’s held in a very long time. 

As I’m holding him, the scent of fear starts to diminish and his usual scent returns. My mouth starts to water and damn, his ears are right _there_. I can’t really help myself and so, I think to comfort us both, I run my tongue along his ears in several long grooming strokes—enjoying his downy soft fur with my lips and tongue. I soon feel him purring in response, though he is crying and purring at the same time. 

“It’s all right,” I repeat in a whisper. “You’re safe.”

Once his tears have quieted, I try to set him down, but he tightens his grip on me and pulls his body against me firmly. 

“W-wait—n-no—d-don’t!” He begs desperately. “Please!”

“I am just going to call for a car,” I explain.

“Um, okay.” He pushes himself right up against me while I do, unwilling to leave my side or stop touching me for even a second. 

After I call the car, he crawls back into my arms on his own and I allow it. I don’t fight him off, though if he were any other client, I would _never_ allow this. He just feels so vulnerable and alone. My heart breaks for him.

“I’m s-so sorry I’m l-like this,” he whispers against my chest. His claws are drawn, too, clutching at my arms so I won’t put him down. “I’m sorry.”

Really, he’s acting as though something traumatic has happened to him—and recently—and whatever happened back there just triggered him. And now, I’ve got to wonder about what Tokino mentioned. His behavior changed three months ago. Was it in a club like this? What was it? 

“I am so pathetic,” he says quietly. “I’m such a fucking farce.” And then his chest heaves and he starts sobbing again. I feel something like a thin thread squeezing tight around my heart, and it’s painful. “I’m so completely worthless!”

“Hush,” I whisper. “Just stop. Breathe, Konoe. You’re safe. Quiet down.” I brush my hand across his ears, massaging the base of his ears, and he takes a deep, quivering breath, then swallows his tears, his chest hitching a few times. He is desperately trying to control himself, and it’s really hard to watch. I’m not sure if it’s the tears, his voice, or the helpless form trembling in my arms that is affecting me. I'm not exactly a heartless cat, but I'm really not usually so easily affected.

The car can’t come soon enough. He’s calmed down for the most part by the time it arrives. I’m careful to help him into the back seat—we’ve been undisturbed in the alley, thank the gods—and it takes us back to the penthouse. He’s exhausted by the time we arrive, and I carry him through the lobby and to the elevator.

My mind is running a hundred miles an hour, though. The elevator ride up, I decide I need to know what happened. But we don’t need to discuss it tonight. Tonight I will tuck him in bed and get him to sleep.

After locking us in the apartment and setting the alarm, I bring him upstairs to his room and lay him on his bed. I pull off his shoes and socks, wandering over to the bathroom for a glass of water.

He sits up against the pillows—a good sign—when I bring him the water, his eyes still wide but looking a little better.

“I-i need to brush my teeth. I n-need a shower.”

“You should sleep,” I suggest.

“I-i w-want to wash it off.”

I look at him carefully, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I know I was less than ten seconds behind him today, so whatever it is he wants to wash off isn’t something that happened today. I sit down on the side of the bed. 

“Konoe, you’re pretty tired. You can take a shower if you like. But you could wait till the morning, too.”

“No!” He glares up at me fiercely. “I want to wash him off—I feel _gross_. It’s _disgusting_! I’m… disgusting.” And then he looks down.

I touch his hand resting on the side of the bed, and he jumps but doesn't pull away—which doesn’t really surprise me, but I feel bad about it.

“I don’t think you’re disgusting,” I say, keeping my voice soft. That makes him look up at me with earnest gold eyes—full of desperation. “I was right there with you today—ten seconds behind you. You were really scared. Has something like that happened before?”

I don’t mention anything about his freezing up or not using any self-defense. We’ve only just had our first training session this morning, and if he was in the midst of a panic attack, it’s natural he would freeze. It’s easy to assume cats go into fight or flight mode when they are under threat, but the most common reaction is actually to freeze.

His gaze wanders around the room for a moment. To me, it looks like he’s starting to realize where he is, that he’s at home, safe at his apartment. He looks as though waking from a dream. And his fur starts to settle and his eyes slowly lose their wildness. But the awful vulnerability so clear on his face— _that_ remains, and it’s painful to see. The tremor in his fingers remains, too. It’s rattling for me to see him like this—this gorgeous creature who only an hour earlier was dancing with such confidence.

“Um, I-i—” he starts and then tries again. “Well, yeah. Kind of.”

“I see.”

“I-i’m sure i-it w-was m-my own f-fault.” He looks down at his hands.

“If you didn’t consent to it, I’m sure it _wasn’t_. Simply being irresistible does _not_ make you prey or open game for anyone else to do whatever they like to you,” I say softly.

I see a few tears slip down his cheeks, and he won’t meet my eyes, but he seems slightly relieved by my words. However, he replies quietly.

“You may _say_ that, but you don’t know what happened—and what I _did_.” 

“Let me ask you, then. Did you consent?” I ask, keeping my voice soft.

He sighs, trying to get his breath under control, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

“No.”

“Then I won’t change my opinion of it. Even if you _had_ consented, kitten, and then withdrawn consent at some point—that would be the same. And even if you did consent and then later regretted it, it wouldn’t change my opinion of you. I don’t think you are disgusting. What you do with your body isn’t what makes a person disgusting. I think it’s intent that makes a person disgusting.” 

His eyes widen again, glittering in the low light of the bedroom, and he looks clearly relieved.

“So. Do you just want to sleep it off, or do you want to get ready for bed?”

“My routine will help me settle, I think,” he says quietly. He scoots over to the side of the bed and climbs down, walking over to the bathroom on slightly shaky legs. “B-but w-will you stay here?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. "I'll be in the guest room."

“Okay.” He rubs his eyes again, and another soft meow slips out of his mouth. He's not even embarrassed by the soft meowing sounds. It's what makes them so cute, I think.

I give him privacy when he gets in the shower. Wandering back downstairs to double-check the door and alarm, I fix him a cup of hot milk and honey, leaving it on the bathroom counter where he will see it. I head into the guest room and change into some sweats for sleeping, brush my teeth, crawl into bed, and start to groom. My body is covered with his sweet scent, and it’s not exactly conducive to sleep for me.

Listening carefully for him to finish in the shower, I hear him brush his teeth and crawl into bed. Before he does, he peeks into the hallway to see if I’m in the guest room. I realize then for sure that this kitten doesn’t see well in the dark—an extremely unusual trait for a Ribika to have—because of how long he waits there. He doesn’t speak, however, and I don’t want to startle him like I did last night. But he’s there long enough that I think I might need something so I make a little noise in the bed, and see his ears twitch.

“Did you need something?” I ask softly. The fur on his ears fluffs out softly, but not in fear—more in response to my voice. 

“Oh, no. I was just seeing if you were okay.” His voice is soft and gentle.

“Did you find the milk and drink it?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” 

“Well, crawl into bed and close your eyes,” I suggest. “I’m not going anywhere. Find me if you need anything.” 

“Okay.” Soft footsteps pad back into the bedroom and I hear him crawling into bed. He tosses and turns, perhaps grooming a little to settle himself, and then finally is quiet.

I drift off to sleep in a little while. I am worked up after tonight as well.

A few hours later, I wake to a strange feeling—a presence in my room. I think it’s the kitten—and he’s sneaking back in here again. I don’t move or make a sound—I just wait.

He slowly approaches the bed, and I hear him rustling around nervously—maybe sighing in irritation and running claws through his hair or pulling at it. And then— 

He crawls into bed next to me.

He’s dressed—wearing sweats and a tee-shirt, thank the gods. And his entire body is trembling. He curls himself up against my back. Just like he did when I walked in the door this afternoon, he fits like a puzzle piece against me. Oddly, he fits perfectly and it doesn’t feel intrusive. It feels like he belongs there. The minute he touches me—his warm body pulls up next to mine—I’m stripped down to my boxers at this point—he takes a deep breath of my scent, buries his nose in my hair, and _relaxes_. It’s as though he lets out all his anxiety and just relaxes. 

I don’t move and I keep my breathing calm and even, though it’s killing me to keep my heart from skyrocketing at having his supple little body so close to me—so defenseless and open. But he isn’t here for sex. He’s here because he is terrified.

A nightmare, maybe? He didn’t want to wake me, perhaps?

I’d never allow such a thing with another client—and there's no question he’s crossing the line between professionalism and my personal space. But I can’t seem to move him, even after he falls to sleep. He starts purring almost immediately after relaxing and his breathing gets deeper and more relaxed, and then he goes to sleep.

I even turn around to look at him—and he looks angelic, sleeping there. His face is relaxed, his eyelashes are long and dark, his jaw no longer tense, and his lips look plush, and that cute little nose is perfect—wow. Before I can think about what I’m doing I’ve leaned down and dropped a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Shit! 

I pull away slowly so as not to wake him, but really, he’s exhausted and a very sound sleeper. Pulling away has brought me up close to his ears—the caramel tips are right next to my mouth, his scent is sweet and delicious. They twitch cutely in his sleep, flicking close to my lips.

I resist licking them.

At least until he starts having a nightmare and shifting around, groaning uncomfortably. Having that lithe little form snuggle up against me in the middle of the night makes me glad I took care of things at home earlier today. But then, grooming his ears comforted him before, didn’t it? 

So I stop resisting and I take a few grooming licks. His fur is so amazingly soft. He settles almost immediately, calming down and purring, pushing his head against my chest, bristling the fur on his tail, which seeks out mine. It wraps itself around mine loosely, coiling itself around me as though to trap me in place.

Gods. He’s _adorable_.

Fuck. I’m so screwed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai wakes up with Konoe in his bed, and after their morning workout, he gets Konoe to tell him what happened. Suddenly, Konoe's behavior makes a lot more sense.
> 
> Trigger warning: past rape and trauma.

We’d arrived late last night—past 2 AM, but I didn’t check the clock. I’m fairly certain the kitten will sleep in this morning, and the way he is clinging to me makes me feel I can’t get up and move without disturbing him. I feel strangely restless, and I want to get up and start my workout.

Around 10 AM, he finally starts to stir. He is still lying on his side, pressed snugly against my chest, his claws in my hair. He stretches first, a sweet little meow escaping from his mouth when he does. The moment I am released I do the same, minus the meow, moving to the side of the bed and stretching my arms, shoulders, and legs.

When he sees me, I see his face pale slightly just before a blush dusts his cheeks.

“Oh. I-i’m sorry,” he stammers. “I-i d-didn’t mean to d-disturb you. I h-had a nightmare and planned to return to m-my own room.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “You had a rough night. I think it might help if you told me what happened.”

His ears flatten against his head and he looks down. He obviously doesn’t want to talk.

“Are you still being threatened?”

He sighs softly, shaking his head.

“I-i don't want to talk about it. J-just the way it went down last night reminded me of that time,” he says softly, looking at the hands in his lap. I watch him closely, and he is drawing his claws and withdrawing them rhythmically, a soothing motion, apparently. His eyelashes are very long, very dark—and they are sparkling with tears.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” I say. “But it might help if you told someone what happened.”

I really don’t want to waste time guessing, but if he isn’t ready to talk, it doesn’t seem I’ll be able to drag it out of him, either. 

He sighs again heavily.

“I should get some workout clothes on,” he says, keeping his voice soft. He climbs out of bed, and I watch his cute little butt wander out of my room, feeling heat crawl up my spine and around my collarbone. I can’t let him sleep in my bed again. I will _have_ to move him back to his own bed if it happens again.

When I get up, all I can smell is his sweet scent mixed with mine, especially on my neck and chest, and it tempts me something fierce. I briefly consider taking a shower before working out but settle for splashing cold water on my face and neck.

“A professional,” I remind my reflection again. “You are a _professional_.”

I head downstairs to the workout room and get started on my routine. The kitten shows up a few minutes later, making his appearance with a little more energy and less embarrassment than he woke up with. He starts his routine as well, looking at me shyly before turning on the music.

I can’t help watching him as he runs through his stretches and his dance routine. I am still working out and then move to the treadmill—and I watch his reflection. He is elegant and refined, and he moves like he is in water, his confidence building the more he moves.

Once he finishes, he stretches again, and I grab a drink of water. Then we repeat our self-defense lesson. He’s slightly embarrassed, which I find amusing. 

“What’s the matter?”

“You aren’t angry with me?” He asks.

“Why would I be?”

“Last night—I just froze. I couldn’t do _anything_. I couldn’t move, I didn’t even try to defend myself. If you hadn’t been there—”

“I _was_ there. That is my job. Don’t worry about it,” I assure him, and he seems slightly hesitant to believe me. “The idea behind these lessons is to make these new moves instinctual, just like your dance moves are. You have to learn them, just like your dance steps.”

The rest of our lesson goes well after that. As soon as we get started, he starts to get his groove on, and he does great. After about half an hour, he is exhausted, and I call time. I pull him up from the mat, and he doesn’t press himself against me, thankfully. He smells nice—even dripping with sweat, or maybe especially dripping with sweat.

What is my _problem_?

“What’s today’s schedule?” I ask, making coffee while we both replenish our fluids.

“Tokino has some errands to run this morning, but he will be over later this afternoon. We are working on the set list for the tour, I think, and the guys should be over to help out, I think.”

“Do you want to talk to me?” I suggest. “Before he gets here?”

“About what?” He says, smiling brightly. He really does look like he has no idea what I’m referring to, the sneaky little brat.

I sigh softly.

“Listen, I know I can’t _make_ you talk. But I know when we left for the club yesterday evening, you had plans in your head to do something _other_ than drink and dance. Am I right?”

Those oversized ears bristle, his tail twitches, and his eyes narrow sharply. Also, his pretty lips purse into a pout.

“If you were willing, and you didn’t leave the bar, that is none of my business,” I continue.

“What?” The kitten’s jaw drops. “I’m not allowed to use a dating app, but I can fuck whomever I like in a club restroom?” 

“If I am within ten meters, sure. If my presence doesn’t prevent your partner from getting off, that is,” I say trying hard to keep the snide tone from my voice. It's apparent that my presence might even encourage this kitten in getting off. He seems to me to be a bit of an exhibitionist. He’d probably even appreciate an audience. “I’ve told you, it’s not my job to police your behavior. I followed you because I sensed you weren't going willingly. Was I right?”

There is a short pause. I keep my gaze on Konoe, and he drops his eyes, biting his lower lip, almost guiltily. Wait— _guilt_?

“Yeah. But if I didn’t, maybe I shouldn’t have been dancing like that.”

I can hardly believe my ears. 

“Accepting a dance does not mean consenting to sex, kitten.”

“But accepting a drink does, doesn’t it?” 

“Of course it doesn’t! And if he said otherwise, he was quite mistaken.”

“But you saw me—dancing—didn’t you? Don’t you think I was, um, _asking_ for it?” He looks up at me for a moment.

“Asking for what?” This is ridiculous, but I try to keep my voice calm. Does he really believe what he's saying?

“You know what I mean,” he says, returning his gaze to his glass of water. “Asking for sex.”

“Were you?” I ask. “Asking for sex? Or to be taken against your will? Did you _want_ to sleep with that cat? Did you ask him to sleep with you? Did he ask and did you say yes?”

“No.”

“Then _no_. I don’t think you were asking for it.”

“What about how I was dressed?” His pointed golden gaze meets mine again.

“What about it?” 

“Wasn’t I dressed as though I wanted it?” 

“You did look attractive,” I admit. “But I don’t think your clothes give consent any more than your dancing does.”

“Hmm.” He traces the condensation on the outside of his glass with his fingers. His hands are small and delicate, his fingers even more so. He draws a pattern with the drops on the glass.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“You were _there_! Why are you asking?!” He snaps suddenly. His angry reaction is a bit of a surprise, so I soften my tone.

“I don’t mean about last night. I am talking about what happened three months ago.”

All the fur on his body stands on end and his pupils dilate, fangs bared, claws appearing around the glass of water in front of him, making a soft clinking sound. He looks afraid, though—not angry. 

“H-how—?” His voice quivers and his hands tremble, his claws tapping softly against the glass. He meets my gaze but timidly and lowers his voice to a whisper. “How do you even _know_ about that? I’ve never told _anyone_.” 

I don’t say anything for a moment, and I keep my face soft. Then, I take a deep breath before speaking.

“Konoe, it may help you to tell someone about it. Is that person still out there? It was obvious to me yesterday that you are still afraid.”

He doesn’t speak and he lowers his gaze to the hands on the glass. He is shaking. Is he really that afraid?

“Tell me what happened. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

He glances up at me again—desperation glittering in his eyes along with tears—and he opens his mouth.

“Please.”

I wait for a moment for him to finish. I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows a drink from his glass.

“W-will you sit with me?”

It’s not a good idea, I know, but I comply. I follow him to the living room and sit down on the couch. He lowers himself down next to me—curling his small (sweaty and enticingly fragrant) body into mine, pulling his legs up on the couch behind him. His tail flicks in agitation. I can’t help myself. I lower my mouth to those giant ears right by my mouth and I give them a single tentative grooming lick. He tastes a little salty—and even sweeter than usual. A small shiver courses down his back and his tail fluffs out. 

This is a bad idea, I think. But I am quiet and I just wait. After a few minutes of resisting his ears—and I manage to behave myself, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my tongue to myself—he takes a deep breath, sighs, and starts talking.

“It was before the Kuims had a contract. We had were newly arrived in Ransen and we had a gig performing in a bar. There was an A&R man scouting talent talking to us after our performance. He had several others with him, I'm not sure who they were, and he offered to buy us drinks and took the band to another bar after our performance. He made us some promises about a record contract while entertaining us at this ritzy place—it was a nicer place we’d ever seen.”

My stomach starts to feel heavy and sick, especially when I see the soft pink flush from his workout start to drain from Konoe’s ears and cheeks.

“He gave us a chance to talk about things and my band was really excited. This was our big break, and our band really needed this. He seemed like a decent guy, too. But my bandmates were exhausted—as was I. They left before me—Tokino did as well—back in those days, I did a lot of the negotiations and they left it to me. Before I knew it, I was alone with this guy and his three mates.”

The kitten swallows again. That heavy sick feeling gets even heavier.

“I don’t really know what happened. I don’t know if I drank too much—I wasn’t drinking a lot at the time, really, so I suspect, um…”

I don’t interrupt, but I know what he’s going to say. 

“I suspect when I got up to use the restroom or when I wasn’t looking, something was slipped in my drink. I lost consciousness—I mean, I don’t even remember leaving the bar or getting in a car or going anywhere. The next thing I remember is, um, waking up in severe pain—facedown—on a mattress in a posh hotel room with someone, um, on top of me, fucking the shit out of me. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe, I couldn’t fight. I’d never done _anything_ like that before—not with a male or a female, not even kiss—and I had no idea what was happening at first. I just knew I was in pain and I wanted it to stop.”

Tears spill down his face.

“And if that _one_ time weren’t enough…”

I feel like I might vomit. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, which heave in a soft sob.

“All of three of those other guys took a turn as well. I couldn’t do _anything_! I was so helpless—I couldn’t even scream or speak. I could only cry.”

He is pressing his face into my chest.

“And even though I was paralyzed with whatever drug they’d given me, the next morning I woke with bruises all over my body—my wrists, my thighs, my arms—and I was bleeding from… where you might expect if a male hadn’t been prepared properly. They were so violent with me! And I couldn't defend myself. I felt awful—so _used_ and _broken_.”

He sobs again softly. I rub his ears gently and something in my chest tightens.

“Then, the A&R man came in and told me that if I wanted that recording contract for my band, I wouldn’t say a word about it. If I ever, _ever_ told anyone, I would find myself and my band out on my ass so fast I wouldn’t know what hit me, and it would be _all_ my fault and our band would be blacklisted from other studios. I was new to the recording industry and I didn’t understand how things worked. He said it would be part of my new image to make me into some sexual icon, and this was the start of my new reformed image.” 

He starts crying softly now, and his tears soak my shirt.

“What does it matter _who_ fucks me? Isn’t that my sole purpose? It’s my entire value as the lead singer of the Kuims. Fans don’t love me for who I am or the music I write. They like me for my body and my sex appeal! It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

I don’t know what to say to comfort him, but I am horrified. And my first thought goes to whoever the hell did this and whether he is still doing the same things to others—and whether he has _ever_ come in contact with my client again. When I look at the kitten, the wound seems fresh enough to make me think he may still be in contact with him. 

“Konoe,” I murmur into the flattened ear in front of me, as soon as his sobs have settled into a steady stream of silent tears. “First, I’m sure your fans love you for your music—I think you’re the real deal. What happened to you was illegal and a crime. It was _rape_. No one should be forced to exchange their body for any sort of work. But more importantly,” I lift his chin—and my gods, he is gorgeous when he cries—making him meet my gaze, “has he approached you since that first night? Have you ever come in contact with him?”

“I shouldn’t have told you any of this,” Konoe says, looking off to the left. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You _have_ seen him, then? Do you _still_ have to see him? Does he expect you to do things with him? Sexual favors?” I press, suppressing the growl rising in my throat.

“If I don’t, I’ll lose the contract,” Konoe says. “My band will be without a future and it will be my fault!”

“Konoe, you have a _contract_. You don’t have to do _anything_ he says anymore. That record label needs you more than you need them. You will _never_ see him again as long as I am working for you. Or, if he asks to see you, I will come along and explain the new arrangement with him.” 

Konoe stares up at me, eyes shining, his lips pressed together in a frown. 

“I can get him fired. Or I can teach him some manners. Realize, even if you do not tell me who he is, I am bound to meet him sooner or later. I _will_ find out who he is.”

“Not if I am with Tokino,” Konoe points out. 

“Then I will have to accompany you both,” I state firmly. “You may as well just tell me now and get it out of the way.” I smile softly. “This is my job. If you don’t say anything, you realize a cat like him will just keep doing what he did to others, don’t you?”

The kitten’s ears press against his head.

“I-i hadn’t thought of that—I’m sorry.” He looks incredibly guilty. “That is very selfish of me.”

I brush his ears softly.

“It makes sense for you to be afraid of him. But you have _nothing_ to fear anymore. It’s my job to protect you—not just your life, but your body as well. You will _never_ have to deal with him again. Do you understand?”

“Do you believe me? He’s been in the business for a long time. I’m afraid my reputation is such that—”

“I don’t give a shit about your reputation,” I interrupt. “You are my client and I believe you.”

Finally, the look of fear on his face starts to fade into relief.

“Thank you,” he smiles softly. I’ve never been so glad to see that expression in my life. This kitten has been through a lot—and he is probably still suffering thanks to whoever this asshole is.

“Are you going to tell me who he is?” I urge.

“I will. When I have to meet him next. I will refuse his meeting, or take you with me.”

I narrow my eyes slightly.

“I will! I promise,” he insists.

“All right.” 

“Thank you.”

“It’s my job,” I say.

“I don’t think it’s your job to comfort me,” Konoe murmurs. “I haven’t felt this safe in a long time. Thank you.”

I smile.

“I should shower.” Konoe stands up and walks back to the kitchen first, cleaning up both our glasses and then he heads upstairs.

I follow him after a moment and take my own shower as soon as I hear the shower running in his bathroom. That sick feeling doesn't leave me, though, even as I rinse off under the shower. I also find myself strangely angry and upset. I don't usually feel emotional about my clients but for some reason, the idea of what happened to this kitten is vivid in my mind. I can see him in that hotel room, afraid and injured, unable to speak or scream, unable to defend himself. And that thought makes an unbearable feeling rise up in my gut. I think it might be rage.

I start having all kinds of unhealthy fantasies of what I might do to the cat who made this kitten suffer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai meets the other band members.

I finish my shower before Konoe does, and Tokino is already waiting in the living room. He’s made coffee and has poured himself a cup.

“I have a request,” I say, helping myself to the coffee.

“Yes?” Tokino asks. He is looking more rested today than I’ve ever seen him.

“I’d like to accompany Konoe to the label, each and every time he has a meeting,” I say. 

“Oh? Of course. I think we are scheduled for a meeting tomorrow at eleven. Do you want to join us then? I’m happy to keep an eye on him. Unless… did you hear something?” His eyes fill with concern. He is a good friend, I can tell. He cares for Konoe and his well-being.

“I did. I shouldn’t share it. But I’d like to accompany him from now on.”

“I’m happy to do that.” There’s a quiet pause as he pulls out his phone and sends me a calendar invite. “You have access to his schedule now. Did he finally talk to you?”

“He did.” I don’t elaborate, and my clipped curt tone makes Tokino pause. But then, he sighs in relief.

“Rai, I’m really glad you’re here. I think you’re the best thing that could have happened to Konoe. I don’t know if he will ever be who he was before… whatever happened. And I’m afraid I know what it was. I don’t even want to think about it.” Tokino looks pensive for a moment. “Wait a minute. Do you think the perpetrator is at the record label?!”

I stare him down. He’s either a little quicker than I thought or he knows more than he told me.

“You know I won’t answer that.” 

A shudder goes through Tokino’s back.  
  
“Does he blame me? Gods, I should have stayed with him—that night.” 

That's true. He never should have left Konoe alone with four guys none of them knew. But I tastefully keep my opinion to myself.

“No,” I answer.

“He probably blames himself,” Tokino says—and I’m shocked at how well he knows the blonde kitten. “My gods.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t mention it to him. He will talk when he is ready.”

“Of course,” Tokino says. “It makes sense, though—why he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“What are the plans today?” I ask, trying to change the subject. 

“I think we are going to discuss some ideas for the stage setup and go through the set list again. The guys will be over this afternoon for practice, too, so it will be loud. Have you met them yet?”

“Not yet.” I have done background checks on them, so it feels like I know quite a bit about them. “Will you have additional crew for the show?”

“I should find out tomorrow at the meeting,” he says. “I’ll give you a list of their names.”

“Thanks.” 

* * *

The rest of the Rage Against the Kuim consists of Akira, Asato, and Rin. Akira, the guitarist, is quiet and reserved. He’s got short shaggy silver hair and blue eyes. He doesn’t say much, and he seems surprisingly anti-social for a musician. I like him right away. Asato plays drums. He’s a tall, slim cat with black hair and fur, olive-toned skin, and shocking blue eyes. He is also quiet, but he eyes me suspiciously when he comes in. It’s obvious to me he feels more than friendship toward their lead singer. I wonder if Konoe is aware. If so, there’s no way he wouldn’t have acted on it, I’d guess. Rin plays keyboard, and he is a cute yellow blond cat with short fur and blue eyes. He is active and energetic. He sings harmony with Konoe during some of the songs, and he is actively flirting with me.

Tokino is embarrassed by the band members, and even Konoe seems annoyed by Rin. He’s uncharacteristically serious, but I haven’t seen him with his bandmates. From what I discovered, Rin and Akira are from Karou, and they have been friends since school. Asato is from Kira, a village even more isolated than Karou. I don’t know how they met, but they’ve been friends for several years.

“I’m sure Konoe is happy to have you here, Rai,” Rin says, sidling up to me. “He hates being alone. In fact, I introduced him to this dating app a couple of months ago, and he was using it nearly every day.”

“Yeah, I can’t do that anymore,” Konoe interrupts. “It’s apparently a security risk.”

“What? How?” Rin asks.

“Use your brain,” Akira says. “Of course it’s a risk. No one uses their real name on there, Rin. He could be inviting anyone into his home.”

“Well, even if he did invite someone over, I mean, Rai is right here, _living_ with him. You’d protect him, wouldn’t you?” Rin asks.   
  
Asato is glaring me, waiting for me to answer.

“I’m paid to minimize security risks,” I point out.

“Yeah, hence the parental controls,” Konoe mopes, tossing his phone on the counter, utterly disgusted. It's kind of cute, I have to confess.

“Konoe,” Asato finally opens his mouth. “I’ll keep you company if you want me to.”

“Ah, I’m fine.”

“How was the club yesterday?” Tokino asks. The band members all look up when Tokino asks, putting the blond kitten on the spot.

Konoe’s ears flatten suddenly, and his pupils widen. Tokino looks surprised by his expression, and Konoe clears his throat.

“It was fine. Like any other club.” He is obviously trying to keep himself together. 

“Did you get lucky?” Rin asks intrusively. “Is he even _allowed_ to get lucky?” Rin looks at me when he asks this.

“Nope,” Tokino answers. “Rai is supposed to vet his partners and give them background checks before he invites them in.”

“Really? Are there problems?” Rin continues. “Is this all because of that one guy who threatened him online?”

“Not just him,” Tokino says, and he is glaring at Rin as if to tell him to shut up.

“Let’s practice,” Konoe says. Glancing up at me, he says, “It might get loud. So you can go upstairs if you want.”

“Do you mind if I use the office?” I ask.

“Go right ahead,” he says.

While the band runs through several songs—and they sound amazing, I admit—I work on the computer in the office. I install parental controls on it as the admin, and then I start my research. I need to see the tour locations. I like to familiarize myself with each area in advance. I’ve been to many of these cities before, but refreshing my memory is a good idea.

The label has booked out entire floors of the hotel for the staff as well as the group when they travel. That will be good. I send email to the hotel managers, asking my usual security questions.

But as I’m working, I can’t help feeling a tug on my heart whenever that kitten opens his mouth to sing. It feels like he is singing to _me_. It’s a strange sensation.

I spend the entire afternoon working out the tour dates, hotels, and other details. Eventually, the band orders dinner, which is brought in. I hear a soft knock on the door of the office.

“Do you want to eat?” Konoe asks. He’s a little sweaty and breathless—and he looks really sexy. I try not to think about it. I've been listening to his voice all day and I haven't seen him since this morning. I've missed that pretty face of his.

“Sure. Thanks.”

I stand up and stretch my arms, legs, and tail. I feel his gaze resting on me when I do this—looking at the skin showing above my waistline. He has a hungry look in his eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. I’m just admiring. You’re in my house. I can _look_ , can’t I?”

“You can do what you like,” I say.

“ _Anything_ I like?” His voice drops in pitch.

I smile but don’t answer. I walk around the desk and deliberately brush past his body when he blocks the doorway. I hear a soft growl from the couch. It’s Asato. He’s growling at me. I’m tempted to ask if he has a problem with me being here, but I don’t. I’m a _professional_ , hired in my capacity to protect this client. How his bandmate feels about my presence is not my concern.

We eat Chinese takeout, and it’s pretty good. The young cats surrounding me are relaxed and easygoing—with the exception of Asato. At some point during the meal, I see Asato take Konoe’s arm and drag him away from where he’s obsessively washing dishes in the kitchen.

“I need to talk to you,” he says softly.

“We can talk here,” Konoe replies. “I don’t have anything to hide.” 

“I want to talk to you privately.” 

“Um, okay?” He follows Asato into the guest room and closes the door. For a second I think, gods, they _are_ fucking or they have in the past. But maybe not. I can hear Asato talking to the kitten in an urgent, almost pleading voice. I hear Konoe replying, but soon their conversation devolves into a loud argument.

Looking around the table, Akira looks down at his plate. Rin smiles at me, and Tokino sighs.

“This happens _all_ the time,” Rin says. “Asato loves Konoe, but Konoe either doesn’t know it or won't acknowledge it. I’m sure he doesn’t want it to ruin the group dynamics. I’m sure Asato is just worried about you being here all the time.”

“I don’t get how Asato hasn’t already lost his shit over Konoe compulsively using that dating app,” Tokino says, rubbing his temple. “That kid really needs help.”

“He didn’t know about it,” Rin comments casually. “He probably just found out about it today and thinks everything we’ve been talking about is exaggerated.”

“Did something happen—that one night?” Akira asks.

We all look up since Akira actually _said_ something. And what he said was surprisingly observant.

“You mean the night we first got our contract?” Rin asks. Akira nods. “I don’t know. But Konoe’s been different since then. He was never so… well. You know. He didn’t sleep around so much.”

I don’t add to the conversation. Instead, I clean up the dishes, my ears tipped backward to listen in.

“He’s been really weird. I mean, a lot of this is his image as ‘the sexy lead singer’ of the Kuims, but he is trying awfully hard.” That’s Tokino again.

“When I heard they wanted to make him a sex idol, I thought, what? _Konoe_? No way can he ever pull that off. He was such a prude in Karou, remember?” Rin says. 

“He wasn’t a prude,” Tokino retorts. “He was just shy.”

“Same difference,” Rin says off-handedly.

“Is he okay?” Akira asks, again taking his bandmates by surprise.

“What, _you_ want to ask him that?” Rin says, slightly snarky. “Go right ahead. Be my guest.”

“I _have_ asked him on several occasions. I’ve been worried,” Tokino says.

“And what does he say?” It's Rin again.

“He says he’s fine. That this is just his new image. But it just… seems so weird.” I sense Tokino’s eyes on my back.

Asato and Konoe are getting louder, and I consider entering the room to stop the conversation. I turn around.

“Do they ever get violent?” I ask. “Do I need to step in?”

“No, no. Asato would _never_ hurt him,” Rin says.

Still, the volume bothers me. Finally, the door swings open and Konoe flounces out of the guest room. He stomps over to the stairs.

“I’m done. I’ve had enough. See yourselves out.” The remark is thrown childishly over his shoulder, and he marches up the stairs. I watch his tail flick in agitation. When he walks like that, his hips sway a little more than usual. It’s awfully cute. 

“Well, shit. He’s pissed,” mutters Rin.

“Are you all right, Asato?” Tokino asks, getting up and looking to the doorway the guest room.

“I’m fine. But I can’t fix it. I can’t fix _him_.” Asato looks discouraged. 

“He probably doesn’t _want_ you to fix him,” Rin replies. “It’s fucking _offensive_. Plus how do you think he’d write his music if he’s 'fixed'? If he needs or wants your help, he’ll ask. Plus, he has Rai now. Just lay off.”

“I can’t,” Asato says. He walks out of the room and over to the door. “I’m going. See you.” 

He slips on his shoes and throws me a nasty glare when he leaves. What the fuck? He slams the front door when he leaves.

“Jesus,” Tokino murmurs. “I have no idea what crawled up his ass and died.”

“I do. He’s tall and excessively handsome, with long silver hair and fur,” Rin jokes, smiling at me. “He’s jealous. Asato wishes Konoe had moved _him_ in if he felt unsafe.”

I sigh softly. I’d better find out Konoe’s plans for the rest of the evening. I wait till the other band members leave.

“You’ll check on him, won’t you?” Tokino says. “I know it’s not your job but he’s attached to you. I think he trusts you.”

“Of course.”

I lock the door and set the alarm after Tokino leaves and finish up the kitchen. There’s not much left to do, though—just a few glasses and chopsticks to clean up. 

Sighing heavily, I head upstairs and knock on the master bedroom door. It’s open slightly, and I can see Konoe lying on the bed on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He’s moping.

“Yeah?” He says softly.

“Everything all right?” I ask.

He sighs again.

“I guess.”

I wait a few minutes to see if he will elaborate.

“Seems those guys really care about you,” I remark.

He sighs again, this time adding a little huff as though he is irritated.

“I know. I just don’t like them butting in when they don’t know what they are talking about. It pisses me off.” 

I smile. His actions are dramatic—and he is acting his age, I suppose. It’s sweet. I’m glad he’s acting out and not acting scared or traumatized. This is a good sign.

“Do you have plans this evening?”

“Um, I’m tired. I think I will stay in.”

This surprises me enough so I don’t respond at first. I was _sure_ he was upstairs changing into his “going out” outfit.

“I didn’t get enough sleep last night. And um, I really sorry if I disturbed you.”

“I would have moved you to your own bed if you were disturbing me,” I say, leaning against the doorway, my arms crossed.

“That _is_ my bed,” Konoe says, glancing at me, a soft smile on his face. “ _This_ is my bed, and the one you are sleeping in is mine, too.” 

“Point taken.” I smile again. I wait a moment before continuing. “You guys sounded good today.”

“Thanks. I have an idea of what I want the set to look like, and I’m going to fight for it tomorrow at that meeting. But I know the label has its own ideas, and I’ll have to do what it says.”

“Do you have anything else on your schedule besides that meeting tomorrow at eleven?” I ask.

He looks up at me now, curious.

“No. Why?”

“I’ll be coming with you. I was wondering if that cat was going to be there.”

“Which cat?” Konoe asks, but from his expression, I can tell he knows exactly to whom I’m referring.

I tip my head to the side and lift my eyebrows, expectantly. His bandmates might treat him with kid gloves, but I’m not going to. 

“No. He’s not going to be at that meeting. He signs new acts, so I don’t see him often. You don’t have to waste your time coming with me, either,” Konoe says.

“It’s what I’m paid to do. It’s not a waste of time. I’m coming with you.”

“Suit yourself,” Konoe says, still pouty—but I think he is pleased since I see him take a nice deep, relaxed breath. I can literally see the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

“Does he make an appointment to see you or surprise you and take you unawares?” I ask.

“He usually texts me with 'urgent business' to discuss,” Konoe says, his voice quiet. “But I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“Maybe he will text tomorrow. Where do you meet him?”

“His office or the restroom,” he says. I’m a little surprised at how forthright he is being with me.

“The public restroom?” I ask. Could no one else hear them in such a place? I wonder.

“Since that first time, I know what to do now. It’s a _lot_ easier if I just submit and do what he wants, and I even act as if I enjoy it. It just makes everything a lot easier to swallow. Sometimes literally.” Konoe is looking off to the side, not meeting my gaze. 

“You’ve already serviced him for the last time, Konoe,” I state firmly. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, all right? He will never touch you again—unless you want him to.”

He looks up at me.

“Thanks.” His eyes travel around my face and down my hair for a moment before he continues. “You’re not nearly as mean as I thought you were when I first met you.”

“You haven’t even called me an asshole yet,” I point out.

Konoe laughs.

“I wanted to—when you took my phone. But in some ways, I’m kind of relieved not to have that app anymore.”

I sit down on the bed, as far from him as possible. The moment I sit, however, he squirms closer to me—almost close enough to touch.

“Is there anyone you want me to vet for you? Any background checks I can do? You don’t have to be alone.”

“No. We're all good. I think.”

“What about next week? Do you have anyone you want to see?”

“Next week? What happens next week?”

I’m a little surprised by this response.

“The mating season?” I ask. Does he really not know? “What are you going to do to take care of it?”

“Oh—that. Um. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” His facial expression and tail flicking back and forth tell me something different than his words. He _has_ been thinking that far ahead.

“You should think about it _before_ things get desperate.”

“I could just go to a club again, I guess?” He glances up at me, his dark lashes fluttering softly. Just a hint of a smile plays on his lips.

“If you want,” I say neutrally.

“You’re okay with that? You weren’t the last time we were at a club.”

“That was because you weren’t consenting to what was being done to you. You stumbled as that cat pulled you off the dance floor. You don’t usually move like that. But if it's what you want, you can do whoever you like.”

“Hmm,” he purrs softly. “Thank you. Again. I mean for last night.”

“Sure. Can I get you anything?”

“Um… would it be a bother to make me more of that sweet milk? It really helps me sleep.”

“No bother at all,” I say. I rise from the bed.

“I think I’ll sit in the jacuzzi.” He sits up and takes off his shirt. It surprises me to see his muscular chest and creamy skin—and the reflection of his back in the mirror—so I excuse myself before he starts stripping off anything else. 

I head downstairs, trying not to think about the kitten stripping off his clothes. Gods, what am _I_ going to do next week? I’ve spent the mating season on my own before, but being around this sweet, sticky scent is going to be pretty difficult. I hope I can control myself. Self-control is rarely a problem for me. If it were, I wouldn't be in this job. But I haven't found myself this attracted to another cat before, either—not outside of the mating season, at least.

Getting out the saucepan, I run on automatic pilot for a while, fixing the milk without really thinking about it. I clean up as I go, washing the dishes after pouring the steaming milk into a mug.

Am I spoiling my client? It’s not really my job to fix him milk and help him sleep. If I do, however, it keeps him happy and mellow, plus he’s much more easily handled. Is he going to be too dependent on me? Why am I even doing this?

I sigh aloud while pondering these questions. If I’m honest, I enjoy this version of Konoe, the vulnerable kitten who needs and wants my help. I like to feel useful, too. I can’t get the feeling of his warm body snuggling next to me out of my mind—and I wonder if last night was a mistake. It’s too late to worry about it now, I suppose.

Carrying the mug upstairs, I walk through my room and to the patio outside. The kitten is in the jacuzzi relaxing, staring up at the stars, but he looks up at me the moment I open the glass door. He smiles softly.

“Ah, thank you.” He takes the mug from my hands, immediately taking a sip. “Care to join me?”

It’s tempting, I think. I look longingly at the water and think of how nice it would be to relax a little in the heat. But it’s probably not a good idea. However… if I can resist him when he’s in the jacuzzi, that would be a good lesson for us both.

“Yeah. Gimme a second,” I hear myself say.

“Clothing is optional,” he says, and that’s when I realize I should have declined the invitation I’ve just accepted. Shit.

I walk back into my room, and I can see him peering through the glass—watching me or trying to watch me, anyway, as I change into my bathing trunks. He really can’t see well in the dark, which I find a little endearing. It’s an unusual trait for a Ribika.  

“Have you always done security work?” He asks when I emerge in my bathing suit with my hair pulled up in a ponytail.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“You’re good at it. I feel much safer with you here than I have in a long time.” He’s watching me carefully as I step into the jacuzzi. The water is hot, and it feels slick on my skin, probably from the salt. It’s less drying than chlorine.

“I’m glad,” I reply, sitting down across from him. He is watching me—and his expression softens suddenly.

“I didn’t think you’d sit with me.”

“Well, I’m just a cat of flesh and blood. It’s hard to resist the luxury of relaxation, isn’t it?”

“Is it? I don’t ever resist. Anything—not anymore.” He sighs almost sadly.

“Perhaps you should,” I suggest. “I mean, if it’s something you want, there’s no reason to resist, of course. But if you don’t want it, then yeah. Resist with all your might.”

“What would be the point? I can’t do anything to protect myself anyway. I would end up losing.” Konoe looks away from my face and gazes up at the stars. He sounds more resigned than negative. 

“Not with me around,” I say. 

“Huh.” The word spills from his lips in a little huff. Then, a little more softly, he says, “You helped me last night. And thanks for not saying anything to anyone. I even managed to stay out of the news.” 

“Of course. It’s what you pay me for.” 

“Right.” He sighs again.

“Are you going to see Asato during the mating season?” I suggest. “It seems to me he’d be open to the idea.”

“What? No!” Konoe says. “He’s perfectly nice—and he’s a great friend. But I have a hard rule that I don’t fuck my bandmates—not _ever_. If something happened, I’d destroy the band, you know? I can’t risk it. Plus, Asato is different. He’s sensitive.”

I don’t reply.

“He didn’t like me very much,” I say, trying to hide my smirk.

“Oh—don’t take that personally. He’s pissed that you’re living here. He sees himself as a strong, reliable cat and thinks I should have moved him in with me. But if I had done that, he would have seen how I’ve been living and he would have been furious.” 

“Maybe he has your best interests at heart,” I suggest. 

Konoe glares at me.

“I don’t need a parent!”  
  
I laugh softly.

“Perhaps you do,” I say. “Hell, you’ve got me fixing warm milk for you before bed every night.”

His ears blush sweetly at my words, and he looks up at me through dark eyelashes. His next words are quiet and soft.

“Is it a bother? I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t do it if it were a bother,” I assure him. “I’m only teasing.”

He relaxes in the water, floating toward me again. His mug is empty, and he looks warm and relaxed. He gets more buoyant the more relaxed he is, I notice.

“You like the water, don’t you?” 

“Yeah. It feels nice. Don’t you think so?” I notice he’s getting closer and closer to me—and I can’t help thinking about whether he’s wearing any clothes tonight or not. I can’t let him touch me.

“It’s nice.” I scoot away from him a little, but I’m not fast enough. I’m always surprised at how quickly this kitten can move. Before I know what’s happened, he’s standing in front of me, his hands on either side of my shoulders on the edge of the spa.

“If I kissed you—would that be breaking your professional code of conduct? It would be me doing it, not you. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, naked in the shower this morning.”

A breath hitches in my chest. He is a gorgeous animal—especially relaxed, hot, and wet. Even the salt water can’t hide his lovely scent. It’s gotten stronger still—probably because the mating season is just around the corner.

“It would,” I say.

“So,” he says, bringing his face close enough to touch my nose with his, “if I kissed you, you wouldn’t kiss me back? You’d push me away? You’d resist?”

His voice is soft and sultry—but innocent at the same time. He presses his body in between my legs, and I can feel that he isn’t wearing a bathing suit when my knees touch the silky smooth bare skin of his butt and hips. Fuck.

“I would, yes.”

“Because you dislike me? You don’t _want_ me? Do you think I’m used? Damaged?”

“No,” I say. “I don’t think that at all. I find you quite attractive, Konoe. I just have to keep a professional line between us—”

“But you let me crawl into bed with you last night,” he reminds me, scooting even closer—and he is pressing his hips against my crotch. Damn it. With him pressing against me deliberately like this, I’m sure he can feel that my body certainly does _not_ feel neutral about him.

“I did, and that was probably a mistake.”

“What if you made another mistake?” He whispers—and he slowly licks my jaw. When he gets that close, I flinch. He smells _delicious_.

“Hopefully, that won’t happen,” I murmur, but I’m not moving. Stupid! I need to move, but I can't bring myself to actually do it!

“Yet—here we are. No one else needs to know.”

“But is this what you need? Why do you feel you need this, kitten?”

My question ruffles his fur and he stares up at me.

“I am attracted to you. You comfort me. Let me repay you for your kindness.” 

“I can’t take sex as a form of payment,” I say, but I am really enjoying the feel of his mouth on my throat. “Okay, that's enough.”

I touch his shoulders to push him away, and he only curls around me more. A small meow escapes his mouth.

“Come on,” I insist. “Time to get out.”

“Please? Rai? _Please_?” The sound of that pleading voice moves something deep inside my chest and it takes all I have in me to lift myself out of the jacuzzi. I pull him with me (I will not check out his ass, I will not check out his ass, I will not even _look_ at it!) and wrap him in his robe.

“Bed. _Now_.”

Another small meowing whine escapes his lips—and that helpless, defenseless sound ruffles the fur all the way down my body.

“Don’t take this personally, kitten. You’re gorgeous. I just shouldn’t.”

“According to—?”

“Konoe. The discussion is over. Get ready for bed.”

He looks up at me, clearly disappointed. I open the glass door to his room and push him inside, closing it behind him. Then, I go back through the other door and change out of my swimsuit.

I need a cold shower or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe keeps to himself in the night, much to Rai's shock. And Rai has plans for the day.

So much for sitting in the nice hot jacuzzi, I think, as I let the cold water run through my hair and down my back. I’m rinsing off in the shower before bed—it’s good for me, helping me calm down—but more than anything, I’d really like to take care of myself before I go to sleep. But I don’t think I can with that kitten breathing down my neck. 

I’ve locked the bathroom door and I hear the handle rattle lightly while I’m still in the shower. Ugh—again. He’s trying to intrude _again_.

“Go to bed, Konoe,” I say sharply—loud enough to make my voice heard over the water. The doorknob stops moving and I hear small footsteps scurrying away. Good.

I really don’t mean to hurt his feelings, but I can’t let him get to me. Still—I’m not so much in the mood after my shower, though I could probably quickly jerk off and feel a whole lot better tomorrow. But I refrain. I’ve been through this before with other clients—and I just don’t ever remember feeling such a reciprocal attraction before. I know it would be a bad idea to act on it now, though.

During the mating season, I have to make _sure_ he has a partner. Otherwise, he’s going to be big trouble. For me, I mean.

I towel myself off, realizing I didn’t bring my sweats in with me, and wrap the towel around my waist when I leave the bathroom after my evening routine. I slip into my clothes, and I can hear the kitten tossing around in his bed. He makes a certain cool, silky sound when he's in his bed—that soft smooth skin rubbing against silk sheets. I try not to think too much about it, but I can’t get the image of him, standing in front of me so boldly—completely naked—in the water. He looked perfect. 

What am I going to do during mating season? I feel a little sick thinking about it. Sick enough that I send a quick email to my mentor, Bardo, asking him for advice. I’m sure he’s been in situations like this. I hate asking for advice since it implies I’m less than professional and I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m clearly out of my league here.

I lie in bed till I hear the kitten settle, and then I drift off to sleep. He sleeps through the night tonight, much to my surprise, and I wake early—and alone—in my bed. I peek into his room on my way down to the workout room, and gods—sleeping, he looks angelic. Innocent and perfect. He’s absolutely  _gorgeous_. 

Why did I look? It's like I'm trying to torture myself. Fuck.

I take out my frustration on free weights and a punching bag this morning. I’m surprised he has a punching bag in the gym. It’s a great workout, but I haven't seen him use it. And thankfully, I get in a full hour workout before he makes an appearance, his hair disheveled, yawning and stretching, sleepy-eyed. He looks like he slept well, though, and smiles at me—genuinely. 

“Good morning.” That magical voice of his is still incredibly attractive to my ears. I am not getting used to it. 

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thanks. Did you?”

“Yep.”

He walks over to turn on his music and starts with his warmup routine, stretching out long and limber. I’m running on the treadmill—just another two miles to go—and I enjoy watching his self-consciousness fade away as the music sinks into his skin, making his movement smoother and more natural. I secretly hope I’ll be in this job for a while. I don’t think I could ever get bored of watching him dance, or listening to him sing. 

I finish my run and grab some water from the small fridge. I sit down and stretch while I watch him go through his routine, waiting for him to finish. He slept late today, so if he does his entire routine, we may have to cut our training time short to make that meeting.

But he works quickly and finishes early. He does well with self-defense training and is as enthusiastic as ever. He actually works on the defense portion, rather than fucking around and trying to grab me. We finish and head up to shower.

He is dressed in his usual uniform—distressed jeans and a slim-fit tee, and he pulls on a blazer as we head out the door. He hears from Tokino as he is pulling the car around. I don’t dress up—I’m security. But I have plans during his meeting this morning. 

Tokino is chatty and encouraging, though Konoe seems a little nervous—worried he won’t be able to get everything he wants for the tour. But Tokino is confident. We walk into the office building, and I see the kitten to the meeting. Tokino says it’s scheduled for 45 minutes. I nod, and Konoe looks up when I don’t follow him into the room.

“You’re not coming in?”

“Nope.” I don’t go into detail.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a meeting of my own,” I reply cryptically. “I’ll be back before you’re finished here.” 

“Okay.”

“Good luck.”

“Oh. Um, thanks.” His ears blush pink—quite sweetly and uncharacteristically—considering I only wished him success for the meeting. I haven’t quite figured out what flusters him or what makes him blush so easily.

Once he heads inside, I return to the elevator and head up to the A&R department. I’m looking for a particular person who wasn’t difficult to find. He’s expecting me.

I approach the secretary out front, introduce myself, and tell her I’m here to meet Sin. That’s the name of the executive who signed Rage Against the Kuim originally. His name is all over their contracts and all over Konoe’s calendar. The secretary smiles at me and I follow her back to an office. It’s got tall windows that overlook the city, a nice expensive desk, and a small-sized cat sitting behind it.

The secretary leaves us and I close the door behind me.

Sin is dressed in flashy, modern clothes—an expensive suit, expensive shoes—and he’s got gray-tipped white fur and gray hair, cropped in an expensive hair cut. He oozes confidence, though when I step into his office, I can feel him sizing me up. He stands up behind his desk—as though pulling himself to his full height, which is still much smaller than me. He’s surprisingly small, however. He must have really threatened Konoe, I think, because that blonde cat is certainly scrappier than the one I see standing in front of me. 

“Hi, I’m Sin,” he says, stretching out his hand. 

I don’t take it. I cross my arms in front of my chest and stare him down, watching his fur fluff out broadly and his ears flatten. I don’t open my mouth at first. Instead, I perfect my intimidation technique. It’s working. 

“Um, are you Rai?”  
  
I don’t reply, which I suppose might seem rude. So I sigh quietly, looking at him from the corner of my eye.

“I’m not exactly sure why you wanted to meet me, but please, come in and have a seat.” He offers me one of the expensive leather chairs before he sits back down.

“That won’t be necessary,” I say firmly. “This meeting will be short.” I casually lean up against the door.

“Do I know you?” Sin asks, still nervous.

“No. But I know _you_.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I’m just here to inform you of some changes to my client’s schedule. He won’t be seeing you again.” 

“I’m sorry? Your client?” Sin looks openly confused now.

“I work for Konoe, the lead singer of Rage Against the Kuims. I’m his head of security, and I’ve deemed you a security risk. If I see you within 20 feet of my client, I won’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”

Sin’s fur bristles and his pupils blow wide. He’s afraid. Good. It’s a good look on him.

“I-i d-don’t know what you mean,” he stammers. “I signed Konoe and the Kuims to the label, yes. But I have n-no i-idea what this is about.”

His expression says something different, and I approach the desk, leaning over and grabbing his collar.

“Listen. I’m going to say this one more time, slowly and clearly. If I see you within 20 feet of my client, _I will kill you_.” 

I can feel the heat from the sweat dripping from his forehead.

“I-i d-don’t know what that k-kid t-told you, b-but e-every w-we have d-done was c-completely c-consensual! You should know he h-has a r-reputation!”

Reputation, my ass. I lower my voice to a growl. 

“How many other artists have you drugged and gang-raped at a hotel, then threatened to take away their contracts if they don’t keep servicing you?” I speak directly into his ear, which flattens. “Is this common practice? Does your CEO know?” 

“Please—that w-wasn’t wh-what that was!” Sin bursts out, terrified.

“Oh? So you’d be willing to take his place? Wanna follow me to the restroom? I can explain the difference between consent and non-consent in less than five minutes.” I keep my voice low and even.

“W-wait—n- _no_ —please—!”

He looks like he’s about to wet himself. 

“Do you understand how far 20 feet is?”

“Y-yes,” he stammers.

“Good. You can contact me if you actually need anything from my client. I’ll _gladly_ be the messenger.” 

“I’ll leave him alone! I promise!” His words are spilling from his mouth now. “Please!”

“I’m sure you will.”

I finally release his collar, glaring down at him while he straightens out his tie nervously. I can smell the fear on him—and it stinks. His deodorant has obviously failed him today.

“That’s all I need.”

“O-of c-course. I-i am s-sorry.” His ears are lowered, his tail drooping behind him.

I stalk out of his office and back into the reception area just as security arrives. I’ve already contacted Steve with my concerns about Sin, and Steve planned on kicking out this loser from the building this morning. I’m glad he didn’t do it before I got a chance to speak to him in person. As I wait for the elevator going down, I look over my shoulder as four security guards burst into Sin’s office. I can hear his yammering even in reception. 

I smile quietly to myself. One problem down. If he can manage to stay away from Konoe from now on, at least.

I head back down to the office where Tokino and Konoe are meeting. I can hear the kitten’s voice from through the door. It makes my fur shiver. I move down to a waiting area and pick up a magazine while I wait another twenty minutes for the meeting to finish.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a good day, Konoe decides to go out to a club.
> 
> Trigger: unresolved sexual tension, consensual sex, and masturbation.

The meeting goes well. Konoe is pleased on the ride home, chatty and happy, though I find him looking at me in an odd way in the car. He climbs into the backseat with me while Tokino is driving.

“I feel great! I think this calls for a celebration,” he says.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. At least—let’s finish what we have planned today,” Tokino says.

It doesn’t dissuade the kitten, though. He is chipper and happy.

Tokino stays with Konoe for the rest of the afternoon taking off just before dinner. As soon as he leaves, Konoe looks up at me and says, “All right. Let’s go out!” 

Raising my eyebrows, I watch him bound up the stairs. I haven’t mentioned anything about what I’ve done today. This is the first time I’ve been alone with him all day, and he’s already escaped my presence. In some ways, it might be better if he didn’t know or hear about it from me. I’d hate for him to accuse me of interfering. I consider the work I did this morning to be part of my job, and if he wants to go out—well, I should let him. It’s another three days before the mating season should peak for me, and I assume he’s on a similar schedule. This might be an opportunity for him to meet a prospective partner. I guess this is where his eagerness to go out is coming from.

He walks down the stairs in his going-out outfit—really slim fit jeans, white this time, that make his legs look even nicer and hug his ass in all the right places. Converse high tops on his feet keep him his usual height, and his button-down shirt is worn unbuttoned nearly to his navel, the long sleeves rolled up to expose the pale skin on his forearms.

Again, I do have to wonder what he'd feel like in bed. He does a little twirl at the bottom of the staircase, showing himself off, and I nod in appreciation. 

“You do know I’m not here to police your outfits,” I say. 

“Oh, I know. It’s just, well, I look _good_. And I want you to _notice_ and _approve_ ,” he says smoothly, a slight purr in his voice.

We head downstairs when the rideshare service arrives, and the car takes us to a night club and bar. On the ride there, I remind Konoe about the rules: stay within my sight, no excessive drinking, and when I say it’s time to leave, he has to comply. I also remind him of the upcoming season. If he’s interested in bringing someone back to the apartment during that time, he should get their name and phone number—or send them to talk to me. I remind him I have plenty of time to run background checks.

He just smiles at me and nods. 

“If I want to hook up with someone _here_ , though, _tonight_ —you won’t mind?” 

“I won’t interfere if it’s consensual.” I consider it might be wise to set up a signal if he wants me to stay out of his way, but we arrive before I can have that conversation. 

As before, I notice the light effects right away and put on my sunglasses the moment we enter the club. Konoe slinks into the room, turning heads with his little strut, and heads straight to the bar, chatting up the bartender. In an instant, several customers chat him up from both sides—even though the club isn’t crowded yet.

Leaning against the wall so I can keep my eye on him, I’m getting used to how he moves—his graceful, flirty walk in particular—but I can’t say that I find it any less attractive. It’s a little annoying.

He downs at least two drinks at the bar before pulling one of the cats chatting with him to the dance floor. Then, in rapid succession, he switches off several partners—taking up more than his fair share of the dance floor, for sure. But I’m relieved to see he’s relaxed and having a good time.

I don’t really pay too close of attention to his dance partners. He doesn’t seem to have a preferred type, really—and he dances with both males and females, all shapes and sizes and colors. In fact, when he is getting down rather close to one of the females—a gorgeous raven-haired cat in a short, tight dress—she leans up to whisper in his ear and a sexy smile crosses his face.

Konoe glances up at me when he takes her hand, and they head off the dance floor. Of course, I follow. They head into the gender-neutral restroom, Konoe leading the female. I’m a little surprised to see this—since this isn’t what I think of as his usual modus operandi. However, I don’t interfere. But I do follow.

When I enter the bathroom, I can hear them together in one of the stalls—and they seem to be in a bit of a rush. I hear jeans coming unzipped, clothing being disheveled, gasping, and purring—and I lean back against the mirror in front of the sink. Glancing over to the stall, I can see he’s got her pushed up against the door, both pairs of feet are facing the same direction. 

I really am trying hard not to pay _too_ much attention to what she is saying, but she is cooing and purring and sweet talking, and he seems to be doing the same. 

As I glance up from the floor to the lock on the door, I notice a sparkle of gold through the gap between the door and the stall divider. Is he looking out of the stall? What the hell?

Not moving from my place at the wall, I take my glasses off for a moment and look a little more closely. That is _definitely_ the kitten’s eye color—it’s unique and hard to miss—and he is staring out through the small crevice, meeting my eye directly. It’s shocking. He’s watching _me_ as he fucks the female—and I get a nasty little shiver up my spine.

They spend about fifteen minutes in the stall together—and apparently, it’s not bad, according to the noise. But that golden eye continues to peek out at me—he is staring me down—the _entire_ time. I have to confess I feel slightly unnerved and like I should leave—but it’s almost as though he is showing off.

If the sounds coming from the stall leave anything to the imagination, I wouldn’t know what it might be. Thankfully, they finish soon. They take a little time to put themselves together and I step up to the sink, casually washing my hands when they emerge from the stall. 

He has a flush on his cheeks and the base of his ears—and it makes him look even lovelier than he was. She too is relaxed and a little loopy, pulling on his arm and hanging on him. 

I hear him whisper something like, “That was a fun time—thanks,” and she smiles up at him. 

She leaves the bathroom first—after checking me out, eyeing me from the tips of my ears to the tip of my tail. I smile politely and slip my shades back on. Konoe steps up to the sink, sighs really loudly, and washes his hands. He isn’t watching what he’s doing, however. He’s looking at my reflection in the mirror.

“Well. I feel a whole _hell_ of a lot better. What about you?”

“I’m glad to hear it. Sounded fun.” I know I shouldn’t have added that last part—but there is something inside me that feels a _lot_ like jealousy. 

His eyebrows lift in his reflection and he shows off two perfectly straight rows of pearly white teeth, his fangs slipping over the edge of his lips. It’s perfectly sexy, I think, still annoyed.

“What? Are you _jealous_?”

I bristle my fur despite myself.

“Isn’t this why you came here tonight? Did you get her name and number?” I ask.

“I didn’t _want_ it. That was _plenty_ for me.” He touches his face after drying his hands and keeps looking at me—it’s almost a predatory gaze—aggressive and sexual. However, he’s a small cat. So while I don’t find him incredibly intimidating, I do find him awfully cute. 

 _Damn_ it.

“Go. Dance,” I mutter. I want to get out of here. Now. I remind myself this is just a job.

Keeping the silly grin on his face, he struts back over to the bar and collects two more drinks. Then, it’s more time on the dance floor. This time, he sticks mostly with guys, including a cat who is about a head taller than him and slim. He has auburn hair and fur, with deep brown eyes. Ginger comes back for round two, and Konoe is still moving around the floor, absorbing light and basking in attention. This time, his partner notices me and looks at me suspiciously. I see him lean down to the kitten’s ears and speak into them, and Konoe’s fur bristles all at once.

The bristling of fur catches my attention, but when he glances over at me, I see his pupils are blown wide and dark. He isn’t threatened. I think this indicates sexual attraction.

It isn’t long before he’s leading the ginger back to the restroom, and I follow once again. 

This round is a lot more intense than the last—and from what I can tell, Konoe is pushed up against the stall door and being taken from behind. 

I _try_ not to think about it and especially not to visualize it. 

But before I can completely look away, once again I see a sliver of sparkling gold flash at the crevice in the door. And that eye is _definitely_ meeting mine. Even as the ginger is fucking him—and Konoe is making lots of playful, pleasured sounds, that eye keeps making its appearance, even as it is jostled roughly by the cat behind him.

Despite several other cats coming in to use the restroom—including a couple obviously waiting for the occupied larger stall—Konoe doesn’t keep his voice down, nor does he look away from me. Once they finish—and it’s obvious when they do finish, from both Konoe’s and the ginger’s voice—he comes out of the stall looking more flushed and disheveled than when he went in.

The petite blonde is grinning like the Cheshire Cat when he emerges from the stall, staring right at me. I think I probably intimidate his partner, but I don’t worry about it. It's my job, after all. When Ginger tries to get Konoe’s number, he shakes his head.

“It’s a security risk,” he says, glancing at me. “But maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” 

I realize this is a ploy for him _not_ to hook up with the cat again, so I don’t interfere. Ginger leaves somewhat disgruntled although physically satisfied. I have to wonder how much stamina the blonde has at this point.  
  
I’m beginning to think I don’t _want_ to watch him fuck anyone else this evening.

Then, it occurs to me this might be a ploy—to make me jealous and make me have the exact reaction I am having now.

 _Damn_ it.

I’m a professional and I’m just doing my job. Konoe washes his hands again—and I notice he’s getting soap everywhere while staring at my reflection. It leads my imagination to all sorts of interesting ideas. My sunglasses are still on—there aren’t any of those special lights in the background.

“You know,” Konoe says, his voice still breathless, “I’d heard those lights make you a lot more sensitive if you’re a guy. I’d have to agree.”

He wobbles just a little, and I wonder if I should call it a night. But I don’t. He’s having a good time, and I need to get my nerves back on track if I’m going to be sharing a car ride home with him.

“You didn’t get his name and number either,” I point out.

“Nope. I don’t want _him_.” Konoe is standing really close to me, and he walks past me, deliberately bumping his hips into me as he goes.

Gods, if he weren’t such a cute cat, would I even be having this issue? Fuck it. I’ll take care of myself after we get home and the kitten is in bed, I think.

Konoe has another drink, dances a little more, and then walks off the dance floor. I see him turning his head, scanning the room. He’s still able to walk, thanks to those Converse. If he’d been wearing those platforms from the other day, I’d have doubts. His shirt is now all the way unbuttoned, exposing a lot of smooth pale skin, and I approach him. 

“Looking for me?” I ask.

He startles at the sound of my voice and I realize it is pretty dark in the club. He really must have terrible night vision, which is unusual for Ribika—or else those lights are having a strange effect on him.

“Yeah,” he says, settling his fur. “I’m done, I think.”

“All right. I’ll get a ride.”

He grabs my arm for support once we head toward the door. He is leaning on me a lot more than I expected he would, for as much as he had to drink. I know he can hold his liquor—but this is strange. Possibly the alcohol is having an interaction with the lights.

The outside air is chilly, and the breeze feels nice in my hair. As do the small, delicate hands running through it, which I keep grabbing and putting back to his side.

“What? You don’t _like_ it?” 

I don’t respond, and I pull him over to the curb once our car pulls up. I push him into the back seat and climb in after him. He doesn’t put on his seatbelt, however. Instead, he lays his head down in my lap, still trying to claw at my hair and my tail.

“Hey man, he’s not going to get sick in my car, is he? There’s a $300 clean-up fee,” the driver says.

“He’s fine. I’ll let you know if you need to pull over,” I say—still annoyed.

No. I’m _not_ annoyed. I’m feeling _frustrated_. Insanely _frustrated_. And being in this small enclosed space with the fragrant blonde touching me is making my situation even worse. My frustration increases exponentially when I feel him grab my crotch. I grab his hands by the wrists and pin them back down to his sides.

“Ah, you _do_ like me,” he purrs, obviously pleased with himself while smiling up at me.

No one in that entire club who had seen Konoe dancing would have another response. It's perfectly natural, I try to tell myself. And _they_ didn’t have to watch and listen to him fuck someone else— _twice_. While he was watching me.

I don’t respond—at least not audibly—and I keep his hands where they are, but having his head pressing around in my lap is more than a little distracting.

Shit.

I begin to realize I’m in trouble when the car pulls up to his building and Konoe drags himself out of the car. 

“I think I drank a little much,” he says, pretending he can’t walk. In fact, he sits himself down on the curb—stubbornly. “Will you carry me?”

Grabbing his arm, I pull him to his feet, growling softly. But it’s to no avail. I am not going to win this fight. His body goes limp in my arms, and I have to catch him or else let him slam down hard against the concrete. His safety is my concern, and he is causing a bit of a scene, as usual. 

I scoop him up like a sack of potatoes, making him yelp when he rides on my shoulder, and walk into the lobby. The doorman sends us on our way, up the long elevator ride, and the small body over my shoulder is shaking slightly. It takes me a minute, but I realize he’s _laughing_.

I try my best to ignore it, but it’s such a pretty sound—as pretty as his song, in fact—and I find it distracting when I carry him up to his room and toss him on his bed. He sits up instantly and grabs me by my upper arms, his fur bristling in that sexy way. His face is pink from hanging upside down, his pupils blown wide, and his fangs are showing—just the tips. I’d so much _love_ to lick them right now. I can’t ever remember feeling this desirous toward another cat. 

“You're trying to spoil the mood! What’s it gonna take, huh?” Konoe asks—and his voice is soft and silky. He smells amazing, too, and I know it will be the end of my professional relationship if I touch him. I know how his body feels all too well, and I’m close to my limit. “I watched you—watching me fuck that girl and getting fucked by that guy. All I could think about was _you_. I want it to be _you_.”

I try moving his hands and he licks me.

I have to laugh at this point—if I don’t, my frustration is significant enough to make me want to shed tears. But this is _ridiculous_. _He_ is ridiculous!

“What? Something funny?” He smiles up at me so sweetly, flashing his fangs as though he knows it’s impossibly alluring. I can’t _not_ think of those little fangs biting and nipping my neck and throat.

“You are. This entire situation. What the fuck was that?” I ask.

“What?” He sounds innocent and taken aback. “You didn’t _like_ it?” 

“Well, weren’t you trying to get off yourself? Why drag me into it?”

“I thought you might want to watch. I thought you might want to see. In fact—since you’re my security, I could just bring anyone home with me, as long as you stay in the same _room_ with us, right? You could watch me get off in _person_ —without a bathroom stall in the way.”

Despite my best efforts, a low growl comes out of my throat that I fail to suppress. What the hell? The moment it does, his ears fluff out—gods, so fucking adorable—and his pupils narrow and widen.

“Ah, did I hit a nerve? You  _want_ me.”

“Get ready for bed,” I say, removing his hands from my body, but he jumps out of bed—a fast, smooth, elegant motion—taking me by surprise, and he pulls me down into bed with him.

“I want to lick you,” he whispers into my ear—and I feel a warm, damp sensation at the tip of my ear. Gods damn it, does it ever feel good!

I _want_ him to lick me—and then I want to bite him into submission. But I slip out of his arms and repeat. 

“Get ready for bed.” 

Trying to hide how shaken I am, I head downstairs and fix myself a stiff drink and him some warm milk. Christ. How the hell am I going to handle this?

I can hear him getting ready for bed—hopping in the shower and then messing around by the sink. Once I'm sure he’s finished showering and (hopefully) dressed, I head back up to his room carrying his mug. I’ve already downed two straight whiskeys and am feeling more relaxed. I hope he goes to sleep soon so I can see to my own needs. 

Once I enter his room, I find the kitten lying in bed, facedown on top of his sheets, and he’s completely naked. His pale skin is blushing prettily from the hot water. And my gods—that ass is just amazing. He’s flicking his tail and bristles the fur, making it look ready to groom, the minute I walk in. He turns onto his side, staring at me, slowly blinking his eyes. He’s a sight for sore (and desperate and needy) eyes—that’s for sure. Just _gorgeous_.

He smiles softly at me, long dark lashes framing bright gold—but it’s dim in the room. He brings his tail in front of his body—though he makes sure to give me an extended peek at his erection. He’s purring loudly when I hand him the milk.

“You don’t want to _join_ me?”

“Like I said, what I want isn’t really the point,” I say, standing up and taking a step away from the bed.

He sits up to drink out of the mug, careful not to spill or burn himself. His fur looks like it could use a good grooming, and I can’t say I’ve ever been so tempted to cast my professionalism aside.

“The house is locked and the alarm is set,” I say. “I need a shower.”

“I can help,” Konoe offers, and seeing him, holding that mug of steaming milk with both hands, looking over the top of it—he just looks so young. And I know that I can’t give in, regardless of how much I want to.

“Oh, I think you’ve done enough for one day, don’t you think?” I brush his ears gently, and he presses his head into my hand. I chuckle softly on my way out.

“Leave the door open,” Konoe calls from behind me.

“Drink your milk and go to sleep.”

I head back to my own room, sitting down heavily on the bed to take off my boots. I put my accessories away—in the safe and away from prying eyes or hands. And I wait, looking out the glass wall over the top of the city. It looks so peaceful, so unlike what I’ve just seen this evening.

I can’t get the sound of his pleasured cries out of my head. They are echoing inside my brain as I listen to him tossing around in his sheets. He’s crawled under them, at least. I can tell from the silky sound his body makes against the bedding. Again, I have to push the image from my mind.

Finally, he stills. I am filled with relief and am more than ready for my shower. 

I strip out of my clothes while I’m still in my room, then head to the bathroom. The hot water feels amazing against my skin—and after shampooing and conditioning my hair and fur, I take a little extra conditioner into my palm and let my thoughts wander. Perhaps my hand wanders a little as well.

My fur bristles under the steam when I think about how the blonde moves—and would he move like that during sex, I wonder? I saw him getting jostled around that second time, and I can’t help imagining if it were me doing the jostling. Although—I’d turn him around to face me so I could watch his face while he comes completely undone.

He doesn’t seem terribly shy about his body—and I’d want to lick all that plush fur till it was perfect and shining. I know now that his tongue is a lot smaller and smoother than mine from when he licked my ear. I could make his fur even prettier. 

I thinking about the soft wet sensation of his tongue when I finally finish, and I sigh with a huge sense of relief and relaxation. I rinse myself off in the shower feeling my frustration washing down the drain. The water is hot and relaxing, too. 

“Your skin doesn’t blush under hot water, either,” a quiet voice startles me out of my peaceful relaxation. I flinch at the sound, bristling my fur.

He came into the bathroom _again_ —while I was showering—and he was watching me for the gods only know how long! A growl escapes my throat and I grab a towel to cover myself up.

“Were you thinking about me? When you were touching yourself? Were you thinking about fucking me?”

 _Gods_!

I dry myself quickly—just getting the dripping water off my body, then wrap the towel around my waist. I climb out of the shower—and I’ve noticed, it would be easy to push his back up against the tile and let him straddle my waist—there’s more than enough room.

But right now, I am pissed. 

He’s naked—still—but that doesn’t stop me from scooping him up off the floor, bridal style so I will stay as far as possible from his bare ass, and carry him back into his room. I toss him on his bed roughly, and shove him under the sheets.

“Aww—you don’t want to cuddle with me?” He blinks up at me flirtatiously.

“Shut up,” I say. “Listen. You need to stop this.” 

“Why?”

“You are about to bite off more than you can chew, kitten.” 

He sits up and says, “What if I want to do _exactly_ that?”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” I growl low.

“That excites me.”

“Go to sleep.” I stalk back to my room, my hair still dripping. I’m irritated more that he got a reaction out of me rather than that he intruded on my personal time, I suppose. 

I slip into a pair of sweats and towel dry my hair. After hanging up the towel, I brush my teeth and then grab a brush. I sit down in my room while I comb out my hair and fur, taking a little more time than I usually do on it, mostly to soothe myself.

The moon is bright and waxing toward full, and it casts a rather lovely light onto the floor of my room. I sigh.

What if I _did_ breech professional etiquette with this client? What would happen, I wonder? Would I really lose my reputation? I mean, Konoe is known for his sexual adventures, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if we hooked up, right? Especially if it were during the mating season? What is the big deal, anyway? Would my career _literally_ go down in flames?

My problem is that if we _did_ hook up, one of three things might happen.

First, he might hate me afterward. If we weren’t careful about the timing, he might not be able to look at me ever again—and that would ruin the relationship I have built with him up till now. It could lead him to cut ties with me and find someone less reliable for his security.

Second, he might get me completely out of his system. This in itself isn’t a _terrible_ thing—in fact, it might be good since he’d stop coming onto me so strong. We could go back to how we were before—if he’s mature enough to do that. (I have _serious_ doubts about his maturity, however.)

Third, he might not be able to get me out of his system and want to carry on a relationship. If I fucked him once and he were any good—and even if he weren’t _that_ good—having someone available and interested in itself is pretty hard to resist. That wouldn't be terrible, either. But that would mean he probably wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings around me. I find it hard to believe that if we did start up a relationship that he’d be able to keep quiet about it, considering how hard he’s been throwing himself in my path. 

I sigh again—letting the brush soothe my anxiety. I don’t know the solution, but each option poses its own limitations. The worst would be if he hated me afterward or couldn’t stand seeing me. I think I _like_ him—and this job—at least well enough not to mess it up.

I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time that sweet scent floods my nostrils. Because, even now—after relieving my tension in the shower—smelling just a whiff of his scent on my pillows arouses me.

 _Shit_.


	9. *Rage Against The Kuim's concert playlist*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an actual update, but instead a list of songs that the Kuims perform. (I maybe had a little bit too much fun with this.)

  1. Ransen Devotee
  2. King of the Kuims
  3. Boys/Boys/Girls
  4. I Write Songs Not Fluff
  5. Death of a Tomcat
  6. Don’t Threaten Me with a Ripe Kuim
  7. The Only Difference Between Fluff and Fame Is Press Coverage
  8. Lying Is the Most Fun a Cat Can Have Without Taking His Clothes Off
  9. The Ballad of Von Ribika
  10. (I Can't Get No) Fluffy Kitties
  11. Smells Like Fluffy Fur
  12. Truly Madly Fluffily
  13. Can't Take My Paws Off You
  14. Born Fluffy
  15. When Fluffy Kitties Cry
  16. One Night In Sisa



From their debut tour, this is the setlist they will be performing.

Perhaps you can get a better sense of their sound with this list.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mating season makes an early appearance, and Rai is not doing well. He grits his teeth and goes through his workout, but when Konoe makes his own appearance, their compatibility makes it hard for Rai to stick to his guns.
> 
> He discovers, of all things, that he can scruff Konoe and make him do what he is told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to IcyTouch for the idea of scruffing. If you haven't read their new fic, Love Thy Neighbour, check it out! It's very sweet!

The next morning when I wake, I have a headache. At first, I think it might be the result of the whiskey I had last night, but two shots wouldn’t usually give me a hangover. This feels like the flu.

Also, when I stretch and get out of bed, my body aches as well—and only then it occurs to me: this is _not_ the flu. These are symptoms of the mating season. They’ve come a few days earlier than I expected, probably because of the blonde kitten who has been occupying so much of my time.

I head downstairs and drink a bottle of water before starting my workout. I’m really hoping that the kitten will last one more day before he goes into heat. Because if he comes downstairs and throws himself at me, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist in my current condition.

Rushing through my sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups, I think about starting my run, mopping the sweat from my brow. I’m dressed in basketball shorts only this morning to prevent ruining a perfectly good t-shirt and making more laundry for myself. I am headed to the treadmill when the most enticing scent I’ve ever smelled floods my nostrils.

 _Oh, shit._  

I know I’m a goner as soon as the kitten’s scent reaches my nose. He walks in, obviously in pain. He looks like he is bad shape, but my body knows what is really happening to him and it responds instantly to what it sees. If I’ve ever seen a cat in desperate circumstances, that’s how I’d describe him. By that enticing scent, I'm well aware I will have to cut my workout short.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” I ask, setting the treadmill to a warmup speed. 

His hair is disheveled, he is sweating, at it sparkles on his skin in the moon of light's pale rays. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused—almost as though he is drugged. Although when he enters the room and see me, those gold eyes flash, drinking me up from head to toe. I probably should have bothered with a t-shirt this morning. His gaze is almost predatory, but he seems strangely confused as well, as though he isn't aware of his body's condition.

“Actually, I’m feeling under the weather today. I texted Tokino to cancel my plans for the day.”

“Did you?” Shit. This is bad news. At least if his bandmates were to join him, I know he’d had a good chance with Asato. “I'm sorry you’re not feeling well.” I keep my eyes forward and don’t look at him.

“Hmph. I’ll try to do my workout anyway. Do you mind?”

Yes, I _do_ mind, as a matter of fact. He already smells too alluring to resist as he is. If he starts sweating for real, I’m going to go a little crazy. But I shake my head so I won’t actually have to utter any words.

“It smells really nice in here,” he comments off-handedly. I wonder if he’s making a smart remark, but his face looks honest. It takes me aback slightly—almost as though he hasn’t experienced this feeling before.

Truthfully, though I’ve experienced the heat many times, it's never been quite this extreme. I can’t remember feeling quite so drawn to a particular cat before. Not ever. I assume it’s because I find him attractive and that I’ve been spending time taking care of him and grooming him—because I’ve gone through this many times while around other clients without this sort of effect.

Why does he seem so clueless? How old did he say he was again? Could it be this is his first time in heat?

He starts his usual routine, stretching out his limber body—and I can’t look away. He’s right there—and his body is obviously suffering. It would be such an easy fix… and a very pleasant task for me. I’ve seen his enthusiasm, so I know we’d be in for quite a ride.

But he makes it through his warmup just fine, like riding a bike. I see his tail bristled out at the base and he is fluffing up the fur at the base of his ears as well, which flush adorably pink. By the time he starts his dance routine, his scent is overpowering, and I’m only half-way through my run. I have _got_ to get out of here if I know what’s good for me. 

I stop my run half-way through, and slow my speed and walk for a few minutes to try to cool down. Of course, it doesn't help. I know what I need and I will take care of it in the shower if I can—but then, the kitten stops dancing as well, watching me carefully.

“Have you finished already?”

“Yeah. I need a shower.” I grab my towel and step off the treadmill and head to the door. The kitten intercepts me—touching my arm lightly. I feel a spark of static electricity between us that goes straight to my hips. Now I _know_ that shower isn’t going to help me anymore, at least not in the way I know he would satisfy me. He has a cute, surprised look on his face when he feels that little zap, his eyes moving from his fingers to my face, almost to check if I felt it, too. 

“Wait,” he says, white and caramel fur fully bristled. His scent is even more intense than it was when he first walked in, and having him so close to me makes me bristle in response. “Don’t—um—please don’t go.” 

I meet his eyes, and his face is full of something that looks like panic.

“I’m not feeling well,” he urges softly. I wonder if he realizes that touching me is making his symptoms worse.

“Are you experiencing symptoms of heat?” I ask, pulling away but not leaving. Without meaning to, I reach up and brush his ears with one of my hands. I’m shocked to see my hands moving on their own. When my fingers connect to the tip of his ear, his fur bristles widely and ruffles down the entire length of his body in a shiver. Also, he flattens his ear against his head—in a surprised manner—probably in response to getting another little zap.

“Um, I don’t know. I think I’m sick.”  
  
“This is not an illness,” I reply. Does he really not know? “You have been through the mating season before, haven’t you?” 

“I—well, I’m not sure?” He answers in an unsure tone, and he cutely looks down. His ears are flushed and pink dusts his cheeks.

What the hell is he doing fucking so many cats if he’s never been in heat before? That can't be healthy!

“You don’t know? That’s a pretty sure sign you _haven’t_ been through a mating season yourself yet. It's not something you'd forget or miss. Is this your first time?”

“Um, of course not,” he says, but he glances up at me as though to gain my approval before actually admitting anything out loud.

“Six months ago, did you feel like this?”

“No. I can’t remember ever feeling so… um, desperate? Or hot? And my entire body aches and I am sure I’ve got a fever.”

“Do you feel like your fur is being brushed backward?”

“Um, yeah.” Again, another furtive but unsubtle glance up at me. “And you keep zapping me.”

“That’s a sign of compatibility. You’ve never felt this before?” In truth, I haven’t ever felt it this strongly, either.

“It’s… a little unsettling,” he confesses. “Like my body isn’t within my control.” There's a brief pause. He looks away and licks his lips before he continues. "But this means you and I are compatible?"

"Well, yes," I reply. I'm sure I shouldn't take advantage of the situation, but would it really be so bad? "I won't be the only compatible cat, however." 

“Also, I feel weird the closer I am to you. And you really smell nice.” The kitten is ignoring what I've just said about other cats being compatible. 

I don’t reply, and he steps a little closer to me, allowing my hand to brush through his fur. My nose is flooded with his scent—it’s exponentially stronger when he steps up to me and absolutely beguiling. Then he tips his face up to meet my gaze, almost shyly. He reaches out his hands to my arms, making little numbing tingles shiver down into my hands and up into my shoulder, and pulls himself up on his tiptoes—and I don’t even consider pulling away.

His soft lips connect with mine—and they feel plush and full—but only lightly—a hesitant touch as though I might reject it. His reticence comes as a surprise, considering how hard he has been throwing himself at me. This feels incredibly appealing and something inside my chest starts to melt. 

This is when I give in to my instincts, throwing all my principles out of the window. I move my free hand to his chin to tilt his face toward me and then run my other hand through his hair, pulling him in close and angling his jaw. The moment I bring my lips back to his, he sighs softly—a soft purr rumbling from his core, and he relaxes his body and lets it press against mine. He is soft and malleable, forming himself around me—and just that small touch lets me imagine how he might feel if I entered him.

The thought makes a deep wet purr rattle my throat—almost loud enough to be a growl, and he shivers again, his fur bristling in response. It’s almost as if he is calling out to me—and the soft gasping sigh from his mouth is gently musical. 

He tastes sweet—and his taste reminds me of his scent. For some reason, I can’t smell the sweat glistening on his body—I only smell the sweetness of honey and orange blossom. I have felt the need to breed in the past, and my partners, while compatible, did not ever taste or smell this good.

Humming softly, he pulls his mouth away from mine, but I pursue him for another even deeper kiss. When he does successfully pull away, he gazes up at me, eyes shining, long dark lashes blinking slowly, a soft smile lights up his face. He displays his pearl white fangs fully—and I’ve never seen him look so enchanting. 

“Oh, my gods,” he whispers softly. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.” 

His voice is gentle and feels like a caress to my ears, making my fur stand on end. My heart races and flutters in my chest and I feel like a schoolboy.

And then—reality starts to come crashing back around me. I am _not_ a schoolboy. I’m a _professional_. I hesitate to move toward him again, and when he approaches me, his hands are all over my body, stroking my chest, my waist, reaching to my tail—nipping at my throat when I won’t permit another kiss—

_This is a mistake._

I have to find him a compatible partner—and soon. But in the meantime, we will never get out of here if we don’t stop. 

A stream of irresistible gasps, sighs, and cute little meows are leaking from him now—and that meowing sound gives me a great idea. But he’s not going to like it. I remember this from when I was a kitten of maybe five years—and he is just barely of the age where it should still work. I reach my hands out to the back of his head and slide my fingers down his nape. He purrs loudly and shivers to the touch. And I like his response—my core wants that response—but I have to at least try to get him together with a compatible partner today, other than me. Otherwise, I will end up breaking my resolve. 

So I draw my claws on my left hand and dig them suddenly into the skin at his nape. In young Ribika, there is a bundle of nerves right beneath the skin. It’s unique to Ribika, I think, that area called a scruff. When kittens are young and need to be disciplined, mothers often dig their claws into the back of their children’s scruff. It isn’t painful for kittens, and it has the unusual effect of settling them down and making them relax and submit. It can also settle kittens who are distressed. 

Most adults outgrow the reflex after their first heat or before, but Konoe makes those strange little meowing sounds that kittens do all the time. I figure it’s worth a shot if it will keep me from accidentally fucking him.

Well. If I’m honest, there will be _nothing_ “accidental” about it. It would be a conscious choice and a bad one at that.

Anyway, as soon as my claws dig into his nape, his ears tip back and he brings his arms and legs in close to his body. He becomes very still—almost frozen, oddly—exactly like a young kitten. His tail is between his legs, drooping—and he can’t even twitch the end, which looks even more interesting to me today.

But he looks up at me in shock at first, and then glares at me. 

“What is this?!”

Ah. It didn’t occur to me, but I believe I read this kitten lost his parents at a young age. Perhaps this has never been done to him before, perhaps not within his memory. But now, he is much easier to handle. I stroke his ears gently.

“What are you doing to me?!” He sounds angry, but his voice is quite soft and compliant. “Let go!”

“You’re fine and you know you are safe with me,” which I am starting to doubt now that I see how submissive he is. It’s frighteningly attractive. I could simply fuck him while scruffing him, I suppose—and I quickly push the thought from my brain. “We just can’t do this right now. You need a shower, and then we are going out to find you a compatible partner.”

He huffs, ears flushing and cheek pink.  
  
“This is oddly humiliating,” he mumbles. “Please. Won’t you let me go?” 

He sounds so sad, so I do release him, and within a few seconds, he regains the ability to move. Immediately he renews his assault, his voice soft and sweet in my ears, his scent overpowering and tempting. And he’s pressing his body up against me now, too.

Instead of trying to fight him off, however, I simply scruff him a second time. Just as before, he becomes instantly compliant and paralyzed. A soft meow comes out of his lips in protest.

“I’m serious. We are going. Now.”  
  
Keeping my left hand holding his scruff, I hoist him up over my shoulder—and another meow squeaks out of his lips. He’s adorable, really, and carrying him like this makes me feel good—nice and warm—and then achy and painfully feverish by the time I get to his room. 

I carefully lower him to the bed and release his nape.

“Take a shower and get dressed. I’m taking you out.”

He looks like his feelings are hurt. I mean, it hurts my chest to see him look at me with such a face.

“You _like_ parties,” I remind him.

“I like _you_ ,” he says quietly, staring straight at me, and those words sink into my heart.

“Get dressed,” I say over my shoulder and I close the door. I also close and lock the door to the guest room and my bathroom to take my own shower—done in record speed—and to get dressed. Having him make a sudden, naked appearance would deflate my current plan like a pin to a balloon.

I’m dressed and walk downstairs, waiting for Konoe to make his appearance. I drink a little extra water, hoping wherever we end up will have coffee.

He comes down, finally, with a sheepish look on his face. He's dressed in distressed low-rise jeans and a casual t-shirt, and he's wearing those platform boots. He looks like he’s going to obey me now, though. His expression is somewhat resigned, from what I can tell. 

At least, that’s what I think until we finally leave the apartment and step into the elevator when I realize his compliance is a ruse. His hot little mouth attacks me immediately—and in the enclosed space, I have an awfully hard time resisting. Is it me or does he feel even softer than usual? His scent is even more arousing in that small space.  
  
I end up scruffing him again—and this time, a loud and long protesting meow escapes his mouth when I do it. It’s very cute and enticing in its own way, but he’s obviously frustrated. 

“You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”  
  
“But I want _you_ to make me better,” he whispers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai tries to take Konoe out to get him some socialization. The plan backfires.
> 
> Consensual sex in this chapter. Finally.

In the hired car, the kitten’s scent is overpowering. Even the driver is distracted and he keeps looking in the rearview mirror to see what we are getting up to in his backseat. Of course, I’m restraining the kitten’s hands, trying to keep him belted in his seat, and Konoe is having none of it.

“Oy,” I hear the driver say. “Don’t be doing anything back there. There’s a clean-up fee.”

“Shut up and drive,” I growl. I’m really doing my best and am realizing this isn’t working out how I planned. I had no idea how hard it would be to get this kitten under control if I’m feeling the season’s symptoms as much as he is. Even hearing him purr is driving me crazy.

Despite my better judgment, I groom his ears. His head is on my lap—much too close—and he’s obviously in pain. He shivers and hums when I soothe him gently with my tongue, but it’s arousing me even more. I want to lick his neck, his spine, his tail…

But that’s not the goal for this afternoon.

“All right, we’re here,” the driver says.

Konoe moans in protest when I lean across the seat to open the door.

“Come on, you’ll feel better soon,” I murmur.

“You’d better see to that kitten,” the driver says—an opinion I don’t want to hear right now. I let him know my feeling through a glare. “He’s going to cause a riot. I’ve never smelled anything like that. I’m just saying.”

We’ve arrived at a 24-hour club, and it’s already busy most likely due to the season. When I follow Konoe inside, watching his ass bounce and his tail swish as he walks, after putting on my sunglasses, I notice he draws eyes from every corner of the room. Ears perk up, tails bristle, noses twitch, posturing starts. My own fur bristles in response, and I feel oddly protective. 

This was a _mistake_. I’ve made a serious miscalculation—and the kitten reads it in my eye when he meets my gaze, giving me a hint of a smile. But he continues to the bar, keeping an eye on me.

When the kitten struts up to get a drink, I really start to question my judgment. I question it further when I hear a growl low in my chest the second a cat approaches him. Should I have kept him at home? I could have just as easily solved the issue myself. I feel something tighten in my chest when the cat next to him nuzzles his ear and looks up in surprise. He glances at me and whispers in Konoe’s ear. Whatever he says makes the kitten’s ears droop for a moment, and his tail flicks back and forth restlessly.

The other cat apparently smells my scent. I’ve unintentionally marked the kitten while we were in the car. Perhaps the fact that it wasn’t unintentional at all doesn't occur to me till later.

Nevertheless, he pulls Konoe out to the dance floor after slamming back a shot. Konoe watches me closely, as though keeping me in eyesight. Does he not want to dance with this guy? He’s still moving like his usual graceful self, so I let it happen. I’m only a few meters away—and gods! I can still smell the sticky-sweet scent of honey lingering in my nose.

I close my eyes for just a second, breathing deeply to get rid of that sweet distracting scent.

When I open my eyes, I see Konoe’s t-shirt has been untucked from his jeans, and his dance partner is stroking his belly right there—on the dance floor. Looking at the kitten’s face, he appears uncomfortable and nervous. He meets my eye and jerks his chin slightly, and he pushes the dancer’s hands away. His partner looks up offended, and I head over to the dance floor. 

“You don’t mind if I butt in,” I state—not as a question—and I pull Konoe away from his partner.

“Oy—hey—that one is m—” His former dance partner doesn’t finish his sentence when he gets a closer look at me. “You need to keep that one on a leash if he’s taken.”

I am well aware since now Konoe is dancing with me on the dance floor. He’s making both of our symptoms much worse—and I think he doesn’t even realize. But he dances well and he looks even better, and I lower my mouth to his ears, which twitch and curl and fold back when I enjoy his scent and follow through with my tongue. Yet… he offers his other ear freely, and he sighs softly—and then a little more loudly.

“Can we…?”

“What?” I murmur.

“I really need… _you_. I’ve never felt like this around anyone. So please…” He glances up at me, clear desire and need in his eyes. “Please don’t say no.”

I shake my head. I can’t be doing this.

“Then take me home. Please. This is uncomfortable. The only person making me feel like this is _you_. I don’t want anyone here. They don’t smell right. _Please_.”

His voice has increased in volume and I know he is taking advantage of the public setting to make me comply. Not have another choice, I nod and lead him off the floor. Once we get outside, I’m able to breathe a little more easily once we’re in the open air, but Konoe is not doing well. He nearly collapses to the ground—I manage to catch him, barely. I pick him up over my shoulder, which allows me to pat his ass—and caress it if I want. I feel his nose bury itself in my hair, which I’m wearing long today. 

Soon, the ride service arrives and I push him into the back seat. Thank gods it’s a different driver—we hadn’t even been inside the club for half an hour. Konoe lies down on the seat with his head on my lap, and it’s utterly distracting. I can’t have him so close to my crotch. It’s driving me crazy.

“Just drive,” I say to the driver. “Fast.”

“Oy, that little guy is in bad shape. You’d better take care of him.”

I glare up at the rearview mirror in annoyance. And _frustration_.

Shit. What’s the plan? I could call Asato—but I don’t think he’d pick up if he recognized my number. Tokino, maybe? I have no plan except to take this kitten home.

Maybe another cool shower will help…

But even I know that isn’t what’s going to happen.

My body is covered in sweat by the time we get back to the lobby of the condo. The doorman looks at Konoe sideways and starts to open his mouth.

“Don’t say it. I know he’s in bad shape," I interrupt.

“First time? That’s surprising.”

I don’t reply and the doorman smiles.

“Good luck.”

My ears bristle at his words but the elevator is here. I carry the sweaty kitten inside and we head back up to the condo.

“I’m okay, now. I can walk myself,” I hear from behind my back.

“Just relax. We’re almost home.”

“Seriously. I get dizzy when you carry me like this. I don’t like being upside down.” 

“You’ll be dizzy no matter how I carry you. Shut up and deal with it.” 

To my surprise, he quiets down, but I can see the fur on his tail bristle.

“Hmm.” He hums softly and sways his bristled tail back and forth. I can feel his claws combing through my hair and the fur on my tail and it’s distracting and extremely arousing. 

The elevator ride takes too long. But finally, we are on the right floor. I carry the kitten, who is now squirming distractingly against my shoulder so I have to keep my hand on his ass, into the condo, kicking off my shoes once we get inside.

“Please,” Konoe whispers against my chest as we head upstairs.

“Let’s try a shower,” I suggest.

“Please…”

I know very well that a shower isn’t in the cards, but like hell if I’m not going to try. The scent of his sweat is so enticing it makes my skin tingle. Every inch of my body is craving his, and I gently set him down on his bed. I pull off his boots and socks, and he gasps. It’s an incredibly sexy sound. 

“Rai…”  
  
My ears twitch when he says my name. Something feels different about his voice when he says my name. I really shouldn’t do this… 

“Rai…”

I reach down to help him out of his shirt and instead end up climbing on top of him, straddling his lap, leaning my face down to nuzzle his neck. His fur bristles and his body is slick with sweat and that enticing sweet scent. He allows me to pull off his shirt.

“Please, Rai!” His voice is desperate and sighing, a loud purr leaking from his lips. “Please—I want you! No, I _need_ you! Just please… _touch_ me. Touch me more!”

I see tears shining in his eyes and I can’t stand the thought of seeing them fall. I touch his bare shoulders and pull him in close, dropping a kiss on his nose. I've known I was going to give in eventually. I just had no idea how soon it would be. 

He immediately reacts, his arms shoot out from his sides and he grabs my cheeks. He pulls me closer and our lips meet—I know my fangs must bruise his lips, but I can’t help it. He clicks our fangs together when we kiss. Feeling his smooth tongue rubbing against mine—my gods, he tastes so good.

I can’t help myself and a quiet sigh slips out of me. I am returning his purr madly. 

“Wait.” 

I push him away for a moment with my hands on his shoulders.

“We don’t _have_ to do this. I can call someone. Asato? Tokino?”

“No. Please—Rai. Don’t make me wait. Please…” Tears start to shine in his eyes again and to my dismay, they leak from the corners of his eyes. “ _Please_!” His voice is almost sobbing. “I’ve never wanted anyone this much! Please!”

I can’t resist his tears or his sweet sighs or his pleading voice. It tickles deep inside my ears, sinking into my heart, and I find myself licking the tears from his face. He pulls me down on top of him, and small cool hands untuck my shirt and pull it off over my head. Feeling his skin against mine is relieving—though we are both hot and bothered from the heat, his skin feels like a soothing balm to my soul.

His eyes wander over my chest, and his fingers trace my muscles. Mischievously, he pinches my nipples and I lean down to nip his throat, which he enticingly bares for me, lifting his chin in submission. I leave a soft trail of kisses down his throat and to his collarbone, which I bite. When I sink my fangs into his shoulder—barely enough to break his skin—he purrs wetly and moans loudly. The sound makes my body shiver and my tail bristle.

Fuck it. We are just going to do this. I don’t see a way around it. 

“What do you want me to do?” I whisper.

“What?” Konoe asks. He sounds confused. 

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“You’re going to make me ask for it?”

“I want to know exactly what you are consenting to,” I clarify.

“Oh. Just fuck me. Please. Don’t take your time. Do not pass go or collect $200. Please. Just _fuck_ me.”

“With my mouth?”

“No.” Konoe sits up, pulling away from me with a challenging look in his eyes. “ _Not_ with your mouth. I want you inside me. I want you to make me come completely undone with pleasure. And I want you to feel the same.” 

Waves of goosebumps shiver down my spine at his heated words. He pushes me down against the bed and reaches for my belt. I let him—and he unbuckles it then goes for my jeans. He pushes my jeans down my hips and then lowers his mouth to my underwear, huffing against my cock, straining against the fabric. I cannot repress a growl of pleasure.

“Hmm. You look glad to see me.” 

He tilts his face up toward me and I watch him as he unbuckles his belt and strips out of his jeans. Taking off those tight pants takes more than a little effort, I notice—and he ends up pulling them inside out after struggling to get them off his hips. He has an incredibly attractive shape and perfect, creamy skin.

I want him—more than I can ever remember wanting anyone before. It’s like my mind has gone completely blank with a haze of desire. Later, I will look back at this moment and recall exactly here is when my rationality slipped away and was replaced entirely by instinct.

Another growl leaks from deep in my throat—and by the gods, I will have this creature.

He pulls my jeans off the rest of the way, leaving us both in our underwear. All thoughts of this connection not being the best option for my career have flown out the window by the time he climbs on top of my lap and leans against me, pressing his erection against mine. He pushes the waistband of my underwear down and my cock springs free, making me sigh in relief. He gives a delightful little gasp and looks up at me, his eyes sparkling.

“It’s not like I couldn’t tell, but I didn’t get a real good view in the shower. And up close… shit.”

Konoe kisses my mouth again, pushing me flat against the bed. He reaches over to the bedside table and opens the drawer, pulling out what looks like lube.

“I don’t want to wait,” he murmurs against my lips. His voice is still making the fur in my ears shiver—each little gasp and sigh like music. “I want to feel your hands on me.” 

He’s still straddling me—and I have the perfect view of him in the mirror—and I watch him push a finger inside of himself as he strains his body against mine. I comply with his request eagerly, running my claws through the fur on his tail, enjoying the feel of his plush fur and anticipating the heat inside his body. I stroke his cock with my other hand—using a mix of firm and teasing touches—and he sighs softly, pushing a second finger inside of himself with a surprising (and sexy) amount of expertise.

His small body is still sweating and now trembling. He’s utterly bewitching, I think—I can’t look away from his ass in the reflection of the mirror, but he leans down and nudges my chin to make me meet his eyes. He lowers his lips to mine on the bed and kisses me—letting his tongue take over quickly, leaving sharp nips along my jaw and my throat. Each little bite sends a jolt of electricity into my groin and makes me want him even more.

I notice the sounds in the room are getting louder—and it’s not just his voice. It’s me, too. I’m usually almost silent during sex—I don’t like to let myself indulge quite so much. The feeling of being out of control is somewhat frightening while in heat, and I can imagine easily spooking the kitten currently grinding his hips against me if I let myself go completely. However, at this point, there's no looking back.

My underwear is pushed down a little more and the base of my tail is grabbed, making me bristle with pleasure. Then, his hand touches my dick, covering me with lube, lining me up with his entrance. The heat from his body makes my heart ache and my eyes burn, and I watch him as he stares down at me, pupils wide and dark, just a thin rim of gold sparkling on the outside.

“Oh gods oh gods oh gods,” Konoe is murmuring, his lips parted and his eyelids closing partway, and he feels _so_ hot inside. Warm, soft, willing—and tight. My gods, he is tight!

“Slow down,” I suggest quietly, supporting his hips in both hands, but he doesn’t take my advice and simply drops his hips down against mine, _hard_. A short cry of pleasure comes out of his mouth and a breathy gasp escapes mine, and he opens his eyes again to meet my gaze, long lashes heavy and thick.

He rests for just a moment, running his claws through my hair, and I don’t move at first. I don’t want him sore after this—well, that’s a bit of a lie. Part of me  _does_ want him sore. I want him to feel _utterly_ taken and remember _why_ he is this sore (and because of _whom_ ) for three days after this. But I certainly don’t wish to cause him any real pain. 

After adjusting to me, he starts to rock his hips back and forth against me, lifting himself to his knees just a little, and it feels amazing. I feel utterly surrounded by him—his insides are clinging to me, and his scent gets even sweeter, his body warmer, and I feel like my heart is soaring. Maybe this is what it feels like to fly.

His tail is fully bristled behind him, rising and swelling in time with his hips. His cock is dripping and wet, and I release his hips to stroke him a little more. He purrs in response and gasps, opening his eyes again. 

“Do you want me to move?” I whisper. 

“Uh—please—yes…”

I sit up abruptly in the bed, pushing him down even lower onto my cock and grabbing his waist and his tail. He feels so welcoming, so eager, and so sexy. Desire courses up and down my spine. A soft grunt escapes his mouth—but it sounds more musical than a grunt, laced with that thick purr and those breathy sighs.

“Oh shit… oh fuck…”

I thrust up from beneath him, brushing against his prostate and his entire body trembles and shivers. Another breathy cry falls from his lips, letting me know this is the right spot. I repeat the movement with him on my lap, and he is desperate to keep his hips moving, meeting my rhythm enthusiastically. His movements become more and more erratic, his voice spilling hot and urgently into my chest. And I too move faster and harder, surprised at the urgency of our connection and my own complete lack of restraint.

Letting my hands move to the base of his tail, I lift the uniquely hooked tip to my mouth and lick it. I can feel his heart pounding—and my own—in my ears and against my chest, and his body is covered in sweat. I work him from below and thrust up again and again—harder and harder—while I fuck his tail and finally his dick with my hands.

“Mmm… close…” he murmurs, and then suddenly his hands move from my chest to his own. The sudden motion catches my eye and I look closely at his face—I can’t tell if he’s in pain or ecstasy. 

“Is this okay?” I ask.

“Harder—faster…” he gasps in reply, his body shuddering.

But his claws draw against his own chest as though it hurts, and I pull him closer to me so his chest is flush against me. To my utter surprise, a warm glow bursts from his body and a gorgeous melody echoes in my head. It sounds beautiful—like he is savoring my touch and longing for more—and the light spills from his chest and wraps itself around me, feeling like a whisper of fingers stroking my body and making me bristle.

What is this feeling?  
  
Pressing against the restraints of my own heart, I feel his desire—his want, his need—to be held, to be touched, to be fucked, to be _loved_. And it’s _warm_ —warm like his insides which grip me so tight that I can hardly move—almost hot enough to burn me.

His eyes fly open and he looks shocked. At first, I thought it might just be me hallucinating and _imagining_ that soft sweet song, but he can obviously see the tendrils of light entangling themselves between our bodies and in my hair and playing in my tail and the melody sinking into my ears. It’s actually a song spilling from his body—like the Sanga tales of old—and I realize I knew he what he was when I first heard him sing. It’s utterly captivating and I allow myself to indulge as he is swept away by pleasure. 

He stiffens his body and bristles all his fur—white and gold shimmering in the soft light his song and the afternoon moon of light—and my heart feels suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Especially when he opens his eyes in the midst of his orgasm to meet my gaze with a smile soft and satisfied, and the gold smolders with heat.

His boldness (and that heat) sends me over the edge—that and his insides pulsing around me and the sweet song in the air and the sighs from his lips. My climax overtakes me and shoots through my body into my limbs and tail, making my fur bristle and pulling a growl from my throat. My body shakes and quivers as I draw out my climax as long as possible, riding it out slowly inside his tight hot body.

When I close my eyes for a moment, that beautiful sound fades. The kitten has collapsed against my chest, all tension relieved from his body and purring softly. He is utterly exhausted.

I am, too, but I feel the urge to groom his ears. So I gently pull his hips off of mine and fold him into my arms, letting his head rest against my chest when I lie back down against the bed. His legs still straddle me though they are relaxed now, leaving his perfect ass exposed and vulnerable—and adorable. He smells so good—sweet, floral, delicious—and he feels even better than I could have expected. My heart is still pounding hard in my chest when I nip the tip of his ear. He’s exhausted to a ridiculous point, folded up on top of me on his knees—and I feel the heat of his body starting to cool. He flattens his ear for a second but bristles up his fur, giving a sweet little gasp, and I can’t help myself. I _have_ to groom him. 

Not holding back, I lick the outside of his ear and tease it between my lips while letting my tongue delve deep inside, stroking his soft fur and listening to him purr. I feel a little shiver course down his spine and his tail bristles and quivers, and the response sends a coordinated shiver through my own fur as well.

“I had no idea it could feel like that,” he says softly against my chest. 

He is either letting his tongue hang out of his mouth or he is drooling a little against my chest, either of which lets me know he’s pretty relaxed. I also notice his claws drawing and retracting against my chest—another charming, youthful trait I hope he doesn’t grow out of. 

Why am I thinking of this kitten growing out of something in the first place? That's crazy. What has just happened between us was necessary. It happened because of the season. I can't be feeling so attached.

His cum mats the fur below my belly and mine drips down the inside of his thigh. Even the thought of that—my cum inside him, that it is currently tickling the inside of his leg though I am not doing anything—sends another wave of desire through my body making me stiffen slightly, and it frightens me.

I literally _just_ fucked the shit out of this kitten and my body wants to go again. Even for the mating season, this hasn't happened to me before. I shift around a little to make sure he doesn’t notice, but he can’t seem to move and he doesn’t seem to mind.

A few minutes pass in silence—and he is so still I think he may have dropped off to sleep. But then his soft voice floats into my ears.

“Are you upset?” Konoe whispers against my chest.

“No, not at all. Why would you ask that?”

“You said you didn’t want to fuck me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Basically, you said it was a professional line you didn’t want to cross, and yet, here we are.” 

“Hmph.” He's right, I suppose. Here we are, indeed.

“So are you mad at me?”

“Not at all. I think it was probably worth it.” 

He giggles softly, his body trembling slightly and his tail shivering.

“Me, too. I want to rest a bit and then do it again.”

My fur bristles at his suggestion, suddenly not so nervous about my own feelings if he's just expressed something similar, and he twitches against my belly. 

“How long does this heat thing last?” 

“It can be anywhere from one to three days, I think.” 

“Oh good. I never want to leave this bed,” he says, his voice soft. He gets very quiet again.

But I can’t stop thinking about that song. What _was_ that? I know I didn’t hear it when he had sex in the restroom last night, not either time. Was this just because of the mating season? I can’t ever remember feeling this compatible with another cat, and I wonder if he feels the attraction as strongly. He feels so nice _right_ against me now like he fits against me perfectly. And now I know exactly how well we fit together. The thought sends another shiver of desire down my spine. 

The uneasiness of my professional life surfaces for a moment, but then Konoe turns his head to the other side, meeting my gaze in the mirror. He bristles up the fur on the ear that he’s freshly exposed and snuggles into my chest. The small trusting gesture makes my heart settle and melt.

“I’m so tired,” he sighs softly, yawning and letting a small meow escape. So freaking cute!

“Just sleep,” I whisper as I start to work over that perfectly oversized silky soft ear, cradling his ass with one hand and stroking the fur on his tail with the other. He’s asleep within a few minutes, but I find myself compelled to stay awake and groom him thoroughly. My heart is still pounding loud in my ears, and I’m surprised at how long it takes me to settle. Tracing his ear with my tongue soothes me, so I just keep it up till his fur is perfect and my heart is at ease.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai is experiencing some regret after sleeping with his charge, but his body feels much better. He heads down to the kitchen to make some food for the both of them and is surprised.
> 
> More consensual sex in this chapter. My gods, people. Two consensual sex pieces in a day? Hell. Go play the lottery!

After a brief but energizing nap, I push the sleeping kitten off of me gently so as not to wake him—he’s adorable when he’s relaxed and vulnerable. A shocking thought hits me like lightning: I could do anything I wanted to him right now and he’d never know what hit him. I shake my head and bristle up my fur when I stretch out long and lean, pull my underwear on and head downstairs. I can’t believe I’m thinking about something like that... and with a _client_!

My body feels like it’s on fire when I leave the room—I feel magnetically pulled to that kitten asleep on the bed. By all rights, what we did should have cleared up my symptoms, and yet I want more. But my mind has finally caught up with what just happened—what I just _did_ — _with my client_.

Gods! This couldn’t be worse.

But that’s what happened, and I was helpless to resist. That idea is a strange one. I wonder between the two of us, who is the most vulnerable to the hormones of the season. I really can’t remember _ever_ being hit so hard by the heat.

However, just because we’re in heat doesn’t mean we should skip meals. So I start looking through the fridge, surprised to find it stocked with meat and fresh produce. I rinse some rice and put it in the rice cooker, then pull out a wok. Chicken and veggie stir-fry is one of the few things I can cook, so that’s what’s for dinner.

After I've chopped the veggies and meat and thrown them in the wok, I sense another presence in the room, and it makes my ears twitch in surprise. Small arms wrap around my waist, and I can tell it’s the kitten. I hadn’t heard or sensed him walking down the stairs, which is unusual for me. It must be the after-effects of such intense sex.

“You cook, too?” His soft voice sinks into my ears, curling around my fur and making it bristle. “Gods, is there nothing you _can’t_ do?”

“I can’t sing or dance,” I say neutrally, keeping my face straight.

“Oh, you can dance.” I hear a smile on his face, though he is pressed up behind me.

I look down at his fingers lacing together at my waist, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin against my body… and then I notice that I can feel a whole _lot_ of his skin against my back. Gods, is he naked? He chuckles softly.

“What? _My_ house. I can wear whatever I want,” he murmurs.

Obviously he speaks the truth. I turn away from the stove to take a peek—and he is completely naked, blushing softly when he sees me looking at him. That blush—the one that starts at the base of his ears and turns the gold tips of his fur to mauve—it’s so innocent and sweet. And utterly irresistible.

What is he doing, blushing like that when he’s walking around the house without a stitch on and playing grab-ass with someone twice his size?

Lowering my lips to his ears, I groom him, and he grabs my shoulders and pulls me in close, sighing softly.

“Oy…”

I shouldn’t leave the stove on, but he doesn’t give me a chance to turn it off. Instead, he backs himself up onto the opposite counter and pulls me with him. I really can’t resist. He grabs both my hands and lowers them to his waist as he turns around, looping his tail around my arm. The way he moves is utterly hypnotic—like the way he dances, it looks fluid like he’s moving through water. And my gods, he’s leaning over the kitchen counter, pressing his ass up against my hips, tail puffed out in anticipation.

I can’t fend him off like this—not when he looks and smells so sweet and ready. He is basically begging me to fuck him, and I don’t stop myself from touching him at all this time. Later I’ll think about this minute—right _after_ I was rueing the fact that I just caved in to his desire, I go and do it _again_ , resisting even less this time around.

A loud beastly growl escapes my throat when Konoe grinds his ass against me, and I lower my underwear to free my cock, grabbing his hips firmly. His tail releases my arm and bristles broadly, swaying hypnotically to its own rhythm, and he leans a little further against the counter, turning his head so he can see me. He shudders and gasps when I push inside him, the shivering of his body makes his flesh vibrate inside him and around me. It sends a strange, heavy sensation to my chest.

The kitten’s body starts to glow again—as soon as my thighs rest against his ass. The melody sinks into my ears right after. I’m struck all at once by the heat of the song—the warmth in it—spilling out of his body into light and sound. It’s no wonder he’s become a superstar so quickly—if he sings anything like this on stage.

But singing during sex itself is unexpected. Not unwelcome, but I think of the confidence he must have to do such a thing. And the way it makes me feel is utterly out of this world. The melody coils around my heart and holds it fast, like an invisible bond. And just as the thought crosses my mind, the kitten speaks softly, his face turned toward the counter, his ears drooping slightly.

“I-i…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry—I-i can’t really control the song—it’s just spilling out.” His ears are blushing pink and mauve and the color floods his cheeks and chest and he peeks back at me. “It’s so weird! D-do you hate it?”

“I don’t,” I admit. “I love the sound of your voice.”

He seems relieved and faces forward again, expectantly. When I don’t move right away, he shoots a melting look over his shoulder, his eyes glazed over to a beautiful gold, as if to ask what I’m waiting for. I simply raise my eyebrows and quirk up the corner of my lips.

In response, he tips his hips forward and then pushes them back against me, _hard_. An enchanting, soft gasp escapes his mouth when he pushes me inside of him again. He’s purring loud and wet, and between that purr and the vibration of his melody, I feel like I’m dissolving, becoming part of him.

The sound he’s making sends all my self-restraint out the window—I can’t help it—I thrust into him, repeatedly, hard and fast, changing my angle to find that spot inside him that makes him go wild. I hear it when I find it—another unrestrained moan leaking from his mouth—and his flesh tightens around me. I watch a shiver rush through the fur on his tail. He’s so beautiful like this.

My heart throbs in my chest and I lick my lips, lowering myself over his back to lick his nape, his shoulder, his neck. He stretches his elegant neck out long, giving me better access.

The mating season has never felt so all-encompassing before. I feel slightly uncomfortable with how easily my body responds to him, how quickly, and how little self-control I seem to have around him. As I’m fucking him, I remind myself again, _it will be okay_ after the season is over. _I will be okay._ My heart will ache if he goes back to his usual routine and drops me, but I will manage. We just happen to be compatible right now, and it makes logical sense for us to use our bodies to cancel out the discomfort of the heat.

But these thoughts don’t stay in my mind for long. Canceling out the heat isn’t what our bodies are doing, either. What we are doing is fanning the flames between us, making things hotter and more intense—something I haven’t experienced before and I wonder if it’s possible he hasn’t experienced it before, either. I’m easily and quickly swept away in the moment, my singular goal to make him come completely undone with pleasure. He feels so good inside—so warm and soft—so willing.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder at me, ears twitching and perked up, so the next time I pull back, I pull all the way out and roughly turn his body around so he’s facing me. His eyes are half-lidded and his lips are softly parted, and another gorgeous sigh escapes his mouth when I push him against the counter and squeeze myself between his knees. He leans back helpfully, tilting his hips. Bending my knees to meet his shorter stature, I thrust myself back inside that hot heat, and his body melts around me helplessly.

I don’t waste any time. Grabbing his thighs, I lift him up and wrap his legs around my waist. He purrs and gasps again, now that his body weight is adding to the depth of penetration. A soft cry escapes when I thrust up inside of him, dragging my cock against his prostate. Flexing his abs, he pulls himself close to me—pressing his dripping cock against my belly, and the soft fur below my navel becomes matted with precum.

Sighing softly, the pitch and rhythm of his song increase suddenly. He tilts his face up to mine, caressing my lips with his tongue. His fangs are on full display—but even with his fur bristled, the soft growls coming from his lips, and his claws drawn, he looks submissive and taken—and utterly _irresistible_.

I meet his hot gaze with an equally heated look of my own. His eyes are surprisingly still open, his long dark lashes fluttering softly, but his honeyed gaze shimmers in the light. I’m amazed at how gorgeous he is—and his face softens suddenly and then his eyes drift close, and he lets himself go. I can see and feel the shiver coursing through his body—leaving goosebumps and raised fur in its wake. His mouth opens and a loud, sexy moan comes out, and his insides throb around me, sending me past my limit as well.

It was a relatively short session, I think—when I spill deep inside him, pleasure and then relaxation following in the wake of my climax. My heart is still pounding in my ears, and I can still feel his insides twitching around me. Next time, I want to draw it out a little more—make love to his slender, shapely body taking my time, licking him and grooming him from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail, wait till he's begging for mercy.

I’ve never been with such a cat before—someone who lives as freely as he does, someone whose body reflects his instincts so clearly when he’s riled up, someone as _warm_ , someone as talented. I’m unsure of whether this is because of who he is or because he’s a musician and a creative creature. But I do know that once the season ends, I will definitely be sorry for it.

Resting his body on the counter for a minute with his arms still wrapped around me, I pull my length from inside him. He moans again—that sexy musical sound—when I do, but he won’t release my neck.

“Please... just... stay with me for a minute,” he murmurs.

I comply—and then my nose is flooded with the smell of something burning. Shit! I completely forgot about the stir fry! Damn it.

Looking over my shoulder, I see the food is burned beyond repair. By all rights, I should have smelled it sooner, but I think my nose was just so full of the scent of the creature in my arms I just didn’t notice.

I reach behind me to switch off the burner, but it looks like I’ll have to start again. For now, though, I leave it where it is, carrying the exhausted, purring kitten in my arms back upstairs to his bedroom. He makes a frustrated sound when I lay him on the bed.

“W-wait,” he whimpers softly. Gods! That voice is still making my ears twitch, and I feel like I have to comply with his request.

He isn’t making eye contact, and there’s a fresh blush in his cheeks when he grabs my arm.

“Stay with me.”

Who could _ever_ resist that voice? Certainly not me. I crawl into bed next to him and pull his back up against my chest. He sighs softly again—that tempting musical sound that sinks into my ears and goes directly to my cock.

Fuck! I literally just screwed him and my dick is responding _again_. I’m sure he can tell, and he purrs in satisfaction. For now, I’ll stick to grooming his ears… and soon, I find him drifting off to sleep.


End file.
